Part Three: Pale
by shallowswan
Summary: At last it seems Dracula has gained the power to bring the dead back into the flesh. And when D encounters his mother after near 11,000 years since her death he knows it's trap. One he is willing to spring. Slight D/OC as well. Harry Potter crossover.
1. Chapter 1: Hallows

**Pale**

_Note: Well, welcome to Part Three of my VHD obsession!_

_I'd go as far as to say that this is a VHD/Harry Potter crossover. There are only small mentions of Harry Potter characters however, mostly I am borrowing story lines. No prior Potter knowledge is needed to enjoy this. As some can tell I have already been using Horcruxes for bit, now I am taking it a step further. You may notice my version of certain events is more dramatic, it's intentional. _

_Part Three in a series. _

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**Chapter One: Hallows**

"_Oh no here is it is again, I need to know when will I fall into decay." –Heaven's a Lie, Lacuna Coil_

**13, 974 A.D**

The girl's dark eyes took in the grimly peaceful scenery without much care, flitting lazily across the crumbed, moss covered tombstones and easily picked out familiar names. She slipped her hand into the large, powerful ones of her lover, and leaned tenderly against his shoulder. Her lover had roamed the Frontier for far more years than she had been alive and it was simply in his nature to prefer the isolation, the quite of the Frontier, rather than the ever expanding realm of civilization.

The girl did not mind this. While she was quite attached to her nuclear powered motorbike that was easily capable of the speed of sound, she found herself infinitely weary of the overbearing spectacle of city life. It seemed more and more were fleeing the cramped confines of the city and returning to the wild simplicity of the Frontier. With virtually all power sources being atomic or nuclear it was unavoidable that there would be leaks or meltdowns. It became common sight to see individuals grotesquely burned, missing hair or bearing hideous young due to the unstable power source.

However, for the most part humanity was willing to take their chances, and use their risky power sources to fuel each new generation of their inventions. Over the past 2000 years or so, man had corrected all the faulty weather controllers beneath the Earth, and thus virtually illuminated the winter season, although they still allowed snowfall on occasion due to nostalgia. It had been 500 years since humanity had suffered the devastation of a single tornado, hurricane or drought, mankind even managed to still the Earth's ever shifting plates, thus locking the geological time line in a dead stand still. Virtually all disease had been wiped out, save for radiation sickness. Most humans lived to be up to 200 or longer, although aging of the skin could not be prevented.

The Capital once again sprawled across the heart of the Earth, denser, larger and fall taller than it had ever before been. Superhighways spread like veins across the whole of the Earth, and the sleek vehicles that traveled them were safely capable of close to light speed. The stars could not been seen from within the glowing cities, rather the sky was scattered with the countless, gleaming lights of satellites and rockets. The Capital was a far different place than when it had fallen into ruin, now it was a thriving epicenter that glowed day and night, with amazing crystalline sky scrapers that reached far higher than any mountain. Virtually every skyscraper was filigreed with gold to highlight the splendor of the city. All that remained of its former decay was a miniature crystalline tower that was long abandoned. It stood merely as a symbol of a brilliant victory long ago that had catalyzed the cities return to glory.

19 more major cites had sprung up across the Earth with countless smaller cities and towns scattered about but a vast portion of the Frontier remained untouched. Those who decided to pursue its calmer, albeit more rustic way of life did so willingly and harbored no fear in doing so. Many of the former demons of the night had learned to fear the violent weapons of the humans that at last gained the power to pierce their thick hides and armor. Many of the terrible beasts that had plagued the minds of children and adults alike had fallen into extinction.

Along with the Nobility that had created them.

But as with any extinction it was possible that not all that were presumed dead were really gone. From time to time a Noble would rise from their grave, and feast greedily upon the blood of the first victims that they saw only to realize that none of the victims they took screamed or even protested, and the taste of their blood was thin, watery and almost revolting. Their crimson eyes would fly wide with dismay as the humans flocked to them with curious and even adoring eyes. No stakes were raised, no torches were lit. The Noble could have walked forever among the humans, utterly untouched.

Perhaps that was why the Nobility had all but faded from the Earth. The Nobility did not yearn for worship, their primordial instinct demanded the thrill of the hunt, of utter mastery over humanity. The stakes where raised by there own hands, the handful of Vampire Hunters left were slaying their own employers.

"…..and those few, like my self that remain to glimpse upon the moon do so knowing that our time is truly gone." said the calm voice of the girl's ginger haired lover. "That is why the Nobility despises your adoration of my kind. We curse it just as we curse the man, the dhampir swine, that brought this sickening time upon us. That damned Hunter, the Vampire Hunter D. Ever since the day my kind walked in the daylight for a brief time, since he slew our one hope for glory, humanity has never feared us. They honored that fucking Hunter. They grew to even worship the half Noble blood in his veins. So long as the Vampire Hunter lives my kind are doomed."

The girl stared calmly at the Noble's grey eyes, his fangs were evident against his bloodless lips but indeed her gaze held only adoration rather than fear.

"You don't need to keep tellin' me this story, R. H. I am not a mindless idiot." The confidant voice the girl answered in was her usual one. "I agree with you already, most of my kind is mindless sheep that look desperately for their shepherd. Besides nobody has seen or heard of this "D" for over two hundred years, he's nothing more than pointless human history. He doesn't have shit to hunt anymore, except perhaps for rotten vegetables for some hick farmer."

"Well" said the vampire with an annoyed grunt, "you asked for a story Asenath."

"A story, yes. But not a damned history lesson. I am fuckin' sick of your constant scrutiny, I don't care shit if you are a vampire R.H, I am not another sheep. Now, tell me a real story."

R.H grinned lecherously at the girl; two thousand years ago the flash of his pearly fangs would have sent a woman into a seizure of panic.

The girl was in her late teens and relatively attractive….that is if you did not look directly at her face. Her slender, well curved body was clad in the stylish light, flowing gowns of the latest fashion, and her hair fell to her waist in thick, russet colored waves but a direct glace at her face marred the image of soft femininity. The whole of her features appeared too heavy, too blunt for the eye to appeal to, the jut of her jaw was to strong; the line of her brow to thick, and her eyes were like muddy, brown swamp pools. The full curve of her lips might have been sensual had it not been sharply turned upward to the right as though the flesh has been sliced brutally with a blade and healed poorly.

"Since when are you so interested in my _stories_, bitch." He laughed with a suggestive movement to his crotch.

Asenath merely crossed her legs and scowled her heavy face further, "Is it a crime for me to take a liking to more than just your cock?" she hissed softly, "You must know volumes about the legends of the Frontier, and I wish to hear it."

The vampire known as R.H grinned slightly, "Very well then, I'll tell you a legend I think you'll soon appreciate. It's the most mysterious, and the most powerful that I can recall. The legend of the Deathly Hallows."

At this the girl scoffed, "The Deathly Hallows! Are you fucking serious? That is nothing more than fairy tale."

"You haven't heard my version." The vampire pressed with a rather disconcerting insistency.

She sighed, "Well than it better be good."

The Noble began to speak.

"_There were once three brothers who were traveling along a long, perilous road at midnight. In time they reached a river too deep and dangerous to attempt a crossing, however the brothers were learned in the magical arts so they simply waved their wands, and conjured a bridge to cross the dangerous water. They were halfway across it when they found their paths blocked by the hooded figure that was none other than Death._

"_Death spoke to them, angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, yet as each mortal knows Death is cunning and instead of anger he showed the brothers only praise that they had outsmarted him. He offered each brother a prize for evading him._

"_The eldest brother, who was combative, asked for a wand more powerful than any other before forged, a wand that always win duels for its owner. So Death crossed to an elder tree and from a slender branch fashioned the most glorious object known to the magical arts: The Elder Wand._

'_The second, arrogant brother decided that he wanted to humiliate Death and force him to reverse his own nature. He asked of Death the power to recall those who he'd taken with him to the Underworld back to life. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and infused it with said power, thus created an object forever coveted by those who love and loose: The Resurrection Stone._

'_The third brother however was humble and he was distrustful of Death, so he asked for a gift that would enable him to go forth from this place without being followed. So, most unwillingly Death handed him the cloak from his own rotting shoulders, and thus created the Invisibility Cloak._

'_The three brothers went on their way and in time separated._

'_The first brother traveled to a distant village and sought out a fellow wizard whom he'd long quarreled with, and challenged him to the death. Naturally the Elder Wand did not fail him in the duel, and when his enemy lay dead the elder brother snatched his enemies lover as his own and boasted through the town of the powerful wand he's snatched from Death himself._

'_Yet the woman he'd claimed as his own was vengeful, and as the man lay snoring on her breast she snatched the wand from his bedside and for good measure slit his throat. _

'_So Death took the first brother as his own._

'_Meanwhile the second brother went to his own home where he lived alone. He took out the stone and turned it thrice in his hand, and to his amazement and delight, the figure of the girl he had loved before her untimely death appeared at once before him. _

'_Yet she was sad, pale and cold, separated from him as thought though a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world she did not truly belong there and her fragile body suffered constantly, without hope of healing. Finally the second brother was driven mad with his hopeless longing, and plunged a dagger into her heart, and then tightened a noose around his own neck so as to truly join her._

'_So Death took the second brother as his own. _

'_But Death searched for the final brother for many, many years but was never able to find him, the power of his own cloak was bewitching even to his own eyes. It was only when the third brother reached a great old age that he cast off the cloak and handed it own to his son. He greeted Death as an old friend and went willingly with him._

'_Thus was the creation of the three most sought after objects of magic: The Deathly Hallows. If the three objects were brought together it was presumed that the objects would render the wielder ultimate power, incapable of defeat, the Master of Death. Only once was such a feat accomplished, when by blind luck a wizard of 17 managed to unite the Hallows and defeat a dark war lord. But like a fool the boy wizard let the Hallows slip from his grasp and broke the Elder Wand of its power. The Invisibility Cloak he passed to his son, and was kept so until the bloodline of Potter was destroyed in the Second Noble Revolution. The Resurrection Stone, the foolish boy dropped in battle, and never dared to recover. _

'_The cloak of Invisibility as you can understand is quite useless in this day and age, but the Resurrection Stone every man, woman, Noble and child alike has dreamed of finding, but that is where the tale ends."_

Asenath's dull eyes held no interest in R.H's grim tale," That's all? Like I have said I have heard that story a dozen times before."

A cynical smile spread across the vampire's pales face, "Than would you like to hear another?"

Asenath stood, her leather boots creaked as she moved and wound her arms about the Noble's neck, "No, I don't."

"I thought as much you predictable little whore." He sneered, the crimson of his eyes flashing brighter.

Apparently the girl was unfazed by such a degrading comment, as she leaned upward and pressed her lips to her lover's without care. The fact of the matter was the Noble had talked to her in such a matter quite often, and it was just as common for Asenath to be nursing blacked eyes, a broken nose or livid bite marks about her neck due to the Noble's temperament. She seemed to possess a rare immunity to the Noble curse, as mortal blood still flowed in her veins. Therefore she was willing to deal with the pain, his side was the only place she had to call home.

All too soon Asenath was pinned brutally down beneath the rotting flowers of a still fresh grave, and while her breathing was fevered, her heavy brow was furrowed slightly as the fastenings of her dress came undone far to soon for her tastes. The girl's arms, chest and belly were sheathed in tattoos. Her scarred, swollen lips remained for the most part uncaressed by the Noble's lips, whom made it clear he was revolted by their touch, yet his hands were all too eager against her breast, his masculinity painful inside of the sheathe of her womanhood. She bit back a scream, and merely clutched R.H closer to her body.

At least she did not have long to endure his painful affections, in only minutes R.H was panting heavily on the brink of orgasm. But it was at that brink that he grasped a handful of her hair, and yanked her head back, exposing her scarred, slender neck the moonlight. A violent snarl rumbled in his throat, his eyes burned as flames as his vicious mouth opened wider.

"NO!" Asenath cried. It was her usual protest; a blinding instinct to fight the violation of her lifeblood. She tried to resist, her hands pressed uselessly against the Noble's iron bulk. The scream that welled from her was truly terrible as his astute fangs plunged down to her carotid. The jagged pain was quickly replaced however with a deluge of soft, numbing relaxation. It allowed her to partially enjoy his brutal thrusts within her, a soft heat to burn in her loins. Her left breast was burning queerly, as though it had been cut by the point of needle sharp dagger.

R.H let out a wild scream against her neck, yet it was far from an impassioned cry of pleasure. He twisted away from her, blood was flooding down his chest, and his demonic face was twisted with brilliant agony. Jutting from his chest was the thin, curved blade of a sword, but as soon as Asenath saw the elegant blade it was pulled from his chest. R.J had time for another; agonized roar before he collapsed onto his knees, and fell into a fine, powdery dust.

Standing behind the settling dust cloud of her Noble lover towered a form so vivid in it's beauty that it caused the girls heated loins to quiver further in desire, pushing far from her many any urge of hatred.

Her lover's killer was wreathed in the moonlight that gave light to his marble pale features. It was utterly evident to her eyes that no human man could ever have possessed such glorious beauty and still draw breath, the features of his face were narrow, angular and sensual with masculine beauty. His eyes were slender and long, fringed with dark lashes and even in the darkness she could see that the eyes they framed where as black as the night itself. His lips were set in a thin, bloodless line. He was slim, and yet taller and more elegantly muscled than any man she'd ever seen. He wore his hair in thick black waves that fell to his hips yet the ends looked rather jagged, as though they had been hastily cut merely to keep the strands out of the way when he sat. The style of his clothing was most unusual, he wore the thick leathers, and spiked gauntlets and armor more typical of a mercenary. An immense, wide brimmed hat was perched atop of his head, and several bright jewels gleamed about his neck, wrists and hands. In his slender right hand he held the immense, curved long sword that had brought the death of her lover.

"How….how….could you…"Asenath breathed, the words sounding more like a moan from her trembling lips.

Calmly the gorgeous form sheathed his sword, but did not appear to regard the girl with any form of interest. "You do not appear especially offended by the death of your lover."

She gave a soft sob, inwardly she would not have liked to admit that it was brought on by only now acknowledging that her caretaker was dead, rather than the instant sorrow she should have felt. Her hand went to her gushing throat.

"Have you been bit before?" said the stranger. His voice was cool, detached and steely. She supposed that if a blade had been given a human voice this is what it might sounded like.

The girl nodded slowly, "It doesn't matter tho…I have never been changed. I…don't wanna…" she answered slowly, unsure of why she'd never shared the rest of humanities desire of immortality, yet it had always been, there rising from her lips and pounding angrily in her breast when R.H had violated her with his fangs.

She never even saw the gorgeous man move, the next thing that she knew he was knelt before her and with a thin finger tilted her head up and again exposed her neck. She could feel a burning hot line in her flesh were his eyes fell upon the wounds but soon enough he released her, his eyes momentary gazed into hers. Asenath blinked, her breath catching in her throat as she basked in the hardened gaze of those onyx eyes. She kept reminding her self to blink, afraid that if she did not she would become forever entrapped with their stare. They were eyes that had witnessed sadness, and violence beyond compare.

The stranger nodded sharply. "You seem to have a rare immunity." And with that he rose and turned wordlessly away.

"Wait!" Asenath cried desperately, partially in despair of never glimpsing upon the gorgeous man again. She had to force rage into her voice, "W...why the hell did you kill him! I…he was all I had in the world!"

The figure stopped, "Then you're in far more danger than you've dare dreamed."

"Well…then…help me or somethin'! I have nowhere else to go!" she cried, only now aware of her nakedness and gathering her dress about her form.

"My work here is finished."

"Tell me your name!" she cried out in one last fit of desperation.

The figure was moving once more, a single letter met the girl's ears, "D."


	2. Chapter 2: Possession

**Pale**

**Chapter Two: Possession**

_Note: Umm…"sex" scene warning. Also D being a complete jerk warning as well…he's going to do that a lot in this story. You have been warned._

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"_Now I dream, enwrapt in pure clouds of the sweetest oblivion where beauty streams, freed from the teeth of those beasts that had come." – Swansong for a Raven, Cradle of Filth_

"_And I would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away." - Possession, Sarah McLachlan_

For the next three months Asenath searched relentlessly for her mysterious and legendary savior. She never would have thought that she would find the Hunter actually residing in the place that her search brought her to, according to what she'd quickly learned about the Hunter he never stayed in one place for longer than a week or two, but all the signs, tracks and rumors she could salvage lead to the castle in which Asenath would not let out of her sight.

The castle had been abandoned and slowly decaying into ruin for centuries, yet now it bore subtitle signs of habitation. The architecture was much like that of any ancient Nobel structure, opulent and overwhelmingly elegant. Its masonry was laid in such complex alignment that even modern humans could only marvel at it, the mortar seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, the windows were like miniature pinpricks of starlight. But through the years cracks had crawled up the structure and disfigured the gargoyles and angels that dwelled about the wild ground.

Yet now the wild tangle of green that had invaded the ground was cleared away and once again the acres of land where immaculate and lush with exotic life. Not only had the grounds been tamed, yet where blooming with luscious flowers of varieties, smells and colors that overwhelmed her senses, yet she quickly noticed that most of the varieties were night blooming.

For days the girl merely crouched within the tall trees and gazed up at the castle before her. Only once did she see a soft glow of light flooding out from two of the windows on a central level of the castle, yet she was unsure of her findings until she witnessed her gorgeous prey moving across the draw bridge. At that time the daylight had been waning, and yet the sunlight still seemed to sparkle off the surface of his skin as though it were composed of a million faceted diamonds rather than flesh. The air seemed to freeze within Asenath's lungs as they forgot their function.

The soft sound of her gasp was more than enough to alert the Hunter of her presence, and his cool eyes penetrated the cover of shadow easily enough only to regard her with utter disinterest, as though she were no more than a common sparrow rather than an intruder on his lands. He turned his gaze to a large tangle of vivid red and black flowers that where shaped like lilies, the vines they grew from where as thick as tree branches. She could recognize this species easily, they where Hell Lilies. When consumed the flowers produced vivid and horrific hallucinations that easily drove the victim to madness. With a swift flick of his wrist he uprooted several of the rope like vines, and tossed at least three feet of the vine of his shoulder. He spoke again, his voice as detached as before, "Go home."

She watched, stricken as he disappeared within the castle. A throbbing sorrow welled within her heart. The girl had not had a true home since the age of five, by now she'd grown used to the knowledge, but the young mans acknowledgement of the fact dragged it painfully forth into her consciousness.

Yet as was natural for a girl whom had learned to fend for herself she was undeterred by the Hunter's cold words, and she did not venture anywhere but closer to the stone walls, it did not take her long for her work up enough bravery to use the thick vines that clung to the stone to scale her way upward and into the castle by way of a narrow window in which most of the glass had fractured away. She presumed that Hunter knew well that an intruder could easily find this simple entrance yet he was certainly a match for any enemy that crossed his path and therefore he did not bother to fix it. "Makes sense", Asenath murmured to herself as she crawled inside the castle, and met no other. Her eyes could see only black shadows about her. "What dhampir capable of slaying Cthulhu would feel threatened by a mere broken window?"

She first noticed that most of the immense manor was still covered in a thick coating of dust, it lay inches thick on the floor and like a white veil upon the black drapes that where pulled across the windows. The lamps still bore ancient filament bulbs; the chandeliers lay broken and forgotten on the floor. Only the fourth level of the dwelling held any evidence of life. There a trails of soft boot prints lead a lonely path from the vast laboratory that was still glowing, humming and bubbling with more experiments than Asenath could have ever hoped to fathom, to the library in which the books were falling off the shelves and stacked high in haphazard piles, from there the focused trail might lead to the gilded elevator, but more distinctly they lead to the bed chamber.

For the next two weeks she crouched again in the shadows and she only glimpsed D in the library and laboratory, for the most part he stayed within the dark bedchamber. It look Asenath a while to work up the courage to push open the door, she was certain the Hunter was aware of her intrusion and he regarded in the same careless manner, but still, crossing into his bedroom seemed a terrible violation to him. However her obsession was far too strong. She wasn't certain what she thought she might find the Hunter doing within that room in the neglected manor, but she certainly never thought she would find him asleep.

Like everything else in the castle the room was immensely sized yet it was almost completely bare. All that occupied its space where more teetering piles of books, loose leaf papers covered in the Hunter's thin script, a tall, cracked and dusty mirror and a large, canopied bed. It was large enough to dwarf even the tall occupant that lay upon it. Strangely enough it seemed that D had tossed a pile of hay down upon the mattress and he lay within this, a thin blanket covering his unmoving form.

If Asenath did not know better from the months she'd clung to R.H she would have sworn that D was dead, as there wasn't the slightest movement she could detect about him, no discernable rise and fall of his chest. Unlike true Nobles, dhampirs did have a pulse and draw in breath; they also cast reflections and shadows although all of these things tended to be faint according to the strength of the Nobel blood within the dhampir.

D did not appear the least bit human as he lay unmoving within the hay covered bed, nor did he appear at all at peace, or even at rest. His eyes might have been closed, and his body vulnerable in the loose black clothing that he wore, his face a gleaming spectacle of beauty to Asenath's eyes, yet there was no true relaxation to his features. He lay rigidly on his back, his expression appearing wise and contemplative. He was merely a slumbering beast, ever wakeful for the slightest hint of danger. His curved long sword rested against the head board, well within his grasp.

After a while she recalled that the Nobility preferred to sleep close to the ground, as it helped to draw fatigue from their bodies. This must be why D slept in a pile of hay.

Asenath still must not have been a threat, for she visited the Hunter daily afterward and always found him asleep, unmoving and utterly unchanged. Only later did she notice that the Hunter was not quite as perfect as he appeared. If she flicked on the lights she noticed that his face was slightly marred, not with scars as most Hunters, but with age. Sharp, yet faint lines traced across his forehead and around his mouth, and in the light she swore that she could see a few grey hairs although they where easily missed in the lustrous shimmer of the dhampir's locks. While at first glance D easily appeared to be in his early 20's, this closer inspection gave him the look of a man of 35 human years.

A week passed before D at last began to stir, his eyes moved fitfully back and forth beneath his closed lids in the way that was certain of dreams, and his fingers would clinch at the moldering straw beneath him. Before consciousness returned to him the Hunter would thrash about restlessly, and in an almost pitiful voice began to cry out, his face twisted in pain. She did not understand what he was calling out, the words where too disjointed to make sense, yet she thought she recognized names that he repeated in his delirium. Each of them sounded rather alike…Luna, Mina, Lina. Had these been relatives of his, or had each of these women merely suffered a similar fate that linked not only their names but their destinies together? It took everything in Asenath's power to keep from waking him; she worried that were he to be caught unawares from such nightmares that he might lash out and end up snapping her neck in his fear.

In time D woke naturally, and gazed almost sadly up at the ceiling above him as though searching the gilded tiles for some sort of sign, some answer that was desperately eluding him. His right hand moved to cover his left one, he still wore the sapphire jewel about his neck and he still wore a thin, rather plain emerald band on his left hand. He touched this jewel softly, and whispered something to himself. She could not be certain what that voice like a frozen winter draft had said, if he'd said anything at all.

He rose without sign of torpor and from there would spend a few intensive hours in the laboratory, dissecting the strange plants he'd been growing and harvesting, and melding them in complicated formulas well beyond Asenath's understanding. He'd spend a few more hours in the library reading frantically, scribbling out formulas and theories faster than her eyes could follow and then he would retrace his steps back to the laboratory. There he would retest whatever concoction he was brewing, and then pour it into a thin syringe. Horrified Asenath watched as D pushed the needle into his carotid artery and pressed the plunger down, emptying the whole of the strange fluid into his veins.

Almost instantly D's eyes took on a glazed look as he set the syringe aside. There was a noticeable languor to his movements as he moved back again into the bed chamber, and lay back down on his moldering bed. Only a moment later his eyes were closed and he moved no more for another week.

The girl was uncertain how long she remained within the castle, captivated by the mysterious, and tragic behavior that the dhampir repeated again and again, his only deviation from it being an occasional trip outside to gather more flowers, or a swift ride of his sleek cybernetic horse to the nearest village to pick up a new shipment of books, and then it was right back to his unconsciousness.

And once again Asenath began to pluck up her courage. She grew to love the week that he lay unmoving, perhaps even ignorant of her presence. It allowed her to fulfill one of her simple dreams, and to crawl into the bed next to D. She would fold her arms about him, and lay against his chest, comforted by the faint pounding of his heart. It would lull her into sleep and into dreams of the day that he would awaken, and perhaps return her embrace.

* * *

D could still recall the warmth of his mother's womb. It was not a faded and blurred memory as Mina's face had now become to him. It was vivid in its simplicity; perhaps that was the only reason that it refused to fade into the haze of time like every other memory seemed to over the millennia. Even before birth he could recall feeling a fierce affection for the life that sustained him, and feeling soothed by her voice. He was attuned to whenever she needed her rest, and would restrict his fetal movements at that time to allow his life giver her sleep. He could also recall feeling a wild loathing arise within him when he heard the cold, cruel voice that always accompanied Mina.

It was often of this simpler time that D found himself dreaming of. Again, and again he relived moments of peace and security he'd once known with his mother, dreamed of the smile she wore when he choked down his human food and resisted blood, of the secure way she'd clutched him to her the first time their village had been beset by a Greater Dragon, and of the times he'd tried to comfort her as she broke down and cried. She never told him the reason her eyes where constantly glazed with sorrow, nor why she fell into tears every so often, and D never asked. He knew well enough almost from birth that he was a major cause of that sorrow, yet he never dared to leave her side, knowing that would have crushed her completely.

D didn't always dream of Mina, however. He dreamed of others, and he dreamed meaninglessly just as often. Yet without fail he would dream of three white flowers that he'd given to three separate women, and of the final moments of those women.

He dreamed of his mothers eyes staring cold and blankly up at the stars, yet her face was calm and serene, at last liberated of her ever pressing sorrow.

He dreamed of lightly clutching a dying girl's hand, of meeting her tear filled eyes before she disintegrated into a sparkling ash. Her last words echoed in his ears, "Goodbye D….oh…the potential we had…"

And he dreamed of the face of his most beloved, horrific in its mask of blood and bruises, her once sensual gaze was forever fixed in utmost horror.

Perhaps other memories and random images would flash before his eyes, yet always these would be the images he saw without fail, before they bled together into a horrific jumble of scenery and imagery, voices and symbols that screamed out in agony at him. A million blood red eyes seemed to stare out at him against pitch blackness, each eye a memory, a world of aguish gazing out at him. He could not fight against the cacophony as it gripped him relentlessly and it was useless to try to struggle, to try to recall that it was only a dream and he must awake now. The chaos gripped his every nerve, it would not let going until it had fully run its hours long course, and then D would be free to awaken. His heart would be pounding almost painfully in his chest, and breathing shallow. He remained utterly unenlightened.

Sometimes D wondered if the terrible sting he felt in his eyes upon waking was that of tears rather than one of many side effects he'd been suffering from his concoctions. He blinked the tenderness away and rose to again and again create his drugs. For a flitting moment he thought he could see the same red eyes that plagued his dreams staring back at him from the reflections of a forgotten mirror, yet either they where merely ghosts lingering within this place, or left over visions of his dreams because they lacked substance or harm.

It was with a sad reluctance that he repeated this strange ritual again and again. The fact was that he'd backed himself into the addictive life cycle. The Nobility had almost literally died into extinction, there was no need for Vampire Hunters any longer and those that still lingered found themselves hired by the Nobility themselves to end their immortal lives that had become as hollow as D's own existence. Income did not concern D, for centuries he'd been hunting merely to have some vague, glimmering thing to exist for. It was desperate listlessness, a need simply to forget the past that had driven him into this cycle.

Not only was he at a stalemate in his line of work, yet his primary goal, the destruction of Dracula's vessels had also met a stand still as well. Over the past millennia he'd destroyed twelve of the vessels of his father's true immortality, yet he'd had help with each other them. He'd had a single, albeit vague clue spoken in dreams or even illusions from the image of once beloved wife. It might take him half a century to understand that clue and destroy the vessel, yet he always managed to in end. Yet time too had robbed his memory of her face, as well as the sound of her voice, the tenderness and the warmth of her touch. Now Luna, like his mother, like the faces of all that D had at one time loved, cared for and rescued was nothing more than a faint memory. A hazy fog that lingered before the scorching break of dawn. With the memory of her face forgotten so too faded her guiding voice. More than 50 years had past since he'd last heard her voice of direction, now all that his dreams would allow him was a fleeting glimpse of her gleaming form and a singular, senseless whisper on the wind, "Look the left…"

Languid, worn and confused D sought out the comfort of hibernation, knowing that if only he could look once more upon Luna's face again her assistance from beyond would arrive once more. Yet his mind refused to grant him that reprieve from his hardships, hibernation was denied from him.

It was for the reason that he experimented so drastically, creating drugs, hallucinogens and sedatives that would allow him to remain in a semi comatose, dreaming state. He utilized the uses of the most unusual and dangerous plant life from all over the world, yet each formula he contacted yielded him the same results. Faceless memories, senseless symbols and horrific nightmares, and no ethereal guidance.

But on this particular day D did not awaken in a fit of nightmares with his body wracked with pain, no blood red eyes where staring at him from oblivion. Rather the thick veil of rest that had dulled his senses lifted gradually, and he was not alone as it did so.

A soft, slender form was lying against his chest, listening solemnly to the drum of his heart. Perhaps her face had faded from her memory, yet the vividness of her white blonde hair would never fade from his mind. Disbelieving D pushed his hands into her hair and tiled her face up to meet his eyes, "Luna…" he whispered but the passion died on his lips.

As suddenly as he'd believed it had been her that curled with him in slumber the girl's appearance appeared to change before his eyes. Her silver hair changed into dark russet waves, and her form lost much of its sensuality and becoming merely the body of an overly thin, starved girl whose face was truly unappealing to the male eye, whose lips bore an unmistakable cleft like scar. She gazed in both rapture and terror at him with her muddy colored eyes, scarcely daring to breathe.

It was merely the girl that had been following and spying ceaselessly on him for months now. He noticed that she appeared far thinner than before as though her obsession of him had drained her of her health as well. He pushed her harshly away from his embrace, clearly he'd still been dreaming when he'd thought he'd seen another. An almost despairing sigh fell past his lips. Not even the rarest, most complex and poisonous concoctions could bring what his father, what fate and time had stolen away from him.

"I….is that her name? Luna?" The girl whimpered pathetically as she moved forward to touch the ring upon his finger.

He pulled his hand sharply back and glared at the girl, "I thought that I told you to go home."

"I don't have a home." She answered back, trying to keep the hurt from her face.

D sat up, "That's none of my concern."

With desperation she grasped his wrist, "Please….you don't even know my name. You don't know anything about me. Just…give me a chance before you throw me away. You killed the only man who didn't throw me away." The girl's scarred lips looked truly pathetic as they quivered with a repressed sob.

He scowled coldly at the girl, "I know your name. I had been following your beloved around for weeks. He was a truly valuable Nobel; therefore I expect he is not truly dead. Why not be a good little girl _Asenath_ and go and find him?"

A startled gasp was pulled from the girl as she heard the dhampir say her own name, it seemed far to flawed of a name to be passing through his lips. "I never loved R.H. I only wanted him because he seemed to want me; he gave me a place to stay. You're the one that I love D."

'Leave me alone."

"No." the girl said firmly and again reached out for his wrist. It was a movement that appeared far too swift to fit the girl's half staved body. She moved across his chest, straddled his waist and pressed him lightly down onto the hay strewn mattress. Had D had it in his mind to use force against her he would have snapped the girl like a twig underfoot, but as usual while within her presence he felt no danger, no need for such violent force. "Just let me repay you…" she panted as her hands quickly began to undo the lacings in the front of her frayed gown.

"I do not want payment, particularly in this form." D answered lowly and took no particular interest in the girl's bared bosom. It was rather well proportioned than the rest of her, but hardly a sight worth of blinding lust. The top of each breast bore an identical tattoo of a white rose, although the ink work look rather poorly done indeed.

Panting she moved her hand across his muscled chest, caressed his neck and his face, "Please, give me a chance D."

"Stop this."

"No." she breathed and leaned in to kiss him, her lips met his eagerly but his lips where cold, and unmoving beneath her caress. He could not deny that a slight shiver coursed down through his body at the touch of her kiss, perhaps it was only natural that he would momentarily desire such affections and yet he did nothing to yield to them. She lifted her face and gazed fearlessly into D's eyes; drowning in the flood of craving those dark orbs caused her. She trailed soft kisses down his face, and to his neck, laced her hands through his hair that had all the softness of silk.

"Stop…"he pleaded again, yet he made no move to resist her. For a moment his hands desired to experience what her skin might feel like beneath his touch, a desire merely to feel, perhaps hold her to his body simply to recall what the warmth of another felt like. All desires of the flesh had died with his beloved, yet at times he did find himself lamenting his utter loss of interest in carnal enjoyment and wondered that if perhaps he could allow himself physical love if that might take his mind off the ever crushing weight about his shoulders.

"D, you need me. I know it." She moaned softly as he hands slipped into his trousers, despite her words his body showed no physical response to any such yearning. She kissed his mouth hungrily as she gripped his flaccid manhood and began to move. It did not seem to matter that he had no desire to make love to this silly, obsessive girl, his body responded to her touch all the same. It might have been millennia since he'd known the touch of any other, but it seemed the lusts of his flesh had at last overpowered his unwavering willpower. He could not help but to breathe a short moan as the blood rushed into his groin and left his sensitive flesh aching more for her touch.

"I don't want you." He growled in defiance of his body. "I'll never want you."

Asenath shook her head, "Don't say that please. Just give me a chance. I can be anything that you desire; I'll do anything you wish. Just love me."

"I don't want you." He repeated himself, "You want me, and you're blinded by the fact. That is the only reason you believe I would ever care for you."

"Don't say such things!" she answered almost fiercely, her caress within his trousers moved faster.

"Damn it." He groaned, feeling his fangs suddenly razor sharp against his lips. The evidence of his lust was undeniable now, he was painfully hard, and his teeth and eyes had taken on the livid countenance of a vampire. He cursed the girl's stupidity, as well as he cursed himself for falling victim to her idiotic seduction, just how weak was his will? "Very well. I surrender. You can do as you wish to me."

Asenath whimpered with joy and kissed his unmoving lips once again. "Oh thank you! You'll see, I promise you. No woman can ever love you like me."

"In that case, if you can satisfy me in the way that she did than I shall deny myself no longer."

"You'll see…" the girl began again followed by more pointless chatter of her silly obsession over him. He gripped the hand that she had been using to gratify him and guided it at a fiercer speed.

"You'll never get anywhere at that pace." He growled, the girl obeyed him and worked her hand faster against his manhood.

A minute later she paused to pull his trousers down and fully expose him to her affections, and just as quickly she pulled her gown up and over her head. D's glowing eyes drank in the sight of her with a look of almost disgust, her breast was all the interest her body held for him. There was a graceful swell of her hips yet the rest of her was far too narrow, bones jutted outward from her skin, and widely placed moles dotted her flesh, marring its already rough and flawed surface. Large colored tattoos adorned her skin, yet they seemed a laughable attempt to distract the eye from the sad sight of her flesh. The dark curls of hair nestled between her thighs seemed the most loathsome sight to D, indeed he had forgotten just how terribly flawed the human form could be. He almost felt humiliation for the laughable creature baring herself before him.

But at least her hands where skilled enough to bring him gently toward a soft ecstasy, it wasn't the blinding fire that he'd so craved even if he shunned the touch of women, yet it was captivating enough. His breathing grew slightly labored. The imperfect girl leaned forward to kiss him, yet he turned fully away from her kiss so that her lips found only his check. "You're going to need that mouth soon." He hinted almost vulgarly.

She took the hint and replaced her hands with her mouth, at this D's breath grew slightly fevered in its pace. How could have ever forgotten such exquisite pleasure such as this? It encompassed his senses. For a moment or two there was no pain, no anguish or despair and only this bright thread of pleasure burning through his loins, yet soon enough the intensity of the fire dimmed. The girl obviously had experience in matters such as this, yet her skill seemed somehow lacking. She did not appear fully aware of the subtle erogenous zones, her mouth moved at a slacking pace and she protested if he tried to press her closer to him or thrust deeper into her mouth.

What pleasure he took from this act was quickly escaping him, and D found himself despairing at the fact. This singular heated thread within him was far more vivid, far more brilliant than any of the senseless dreams he'd been clinging to, and he become desperate to see it to its end. He closed his eyes tightly, partially the block himself the sight of the girls unsatisfactory image and desperately sought out the memory of what it had been like to fall utterly helpless, and enslaved with passion. Only _she_ had been capable of that, his beloved Nymph, a creature forged for the pleasures of the flesh, a creature so accepting of the inevitability of love that she had given all her heart, body and soul over to D without a second thought. Against his closed eyes he sought her out, vividly recalling their first kiss within the swirling snowstorm. He recalled the pomegranate seeds they had shared, how the luscious taste of them had inspired their passionate kiss, recalled the blood red juice of the fruit upon her lips. He could even recall the way he'd lifted his hand and smoothed back her hair, bringing her slightly flushed face fully into his view. Her eyes had been smoldering beneath her pale lashes, her full lips parted in anticipation of his. _Her face!_ Here is it was at last, her image uncorrupted by the passage of time, an image every bit as beautiful as the last time he'd seen it.

A hot, succulent flavored liquid touched D's tongue, bringing his consciousness back to the present. The taste of the liquid caused all his nerves to flare brightly, triggering the climax he'd been seeking. He gripped the girl's hair tightly and groaned out brokenly. For only a few seconds all the tension had left his body and was replaced by a glowing euphoria…but it abated just as swiftly as it had arrived and there was nothing but the hideous naked girl crouched atop of him, spitting and protesting at the fact that he'd dared to befoul her with his seed. He recognized the thrilling taste in his mouth to be that of his own blood, and became dimly aware that he'd bit open his own lip.

The repulsive girl was demanding his attention, "Bloody hell! You could have at least warned me!"

D merely gripped the girl by her shoulders and tossed her almost violently off the bed, and across the room. He'd used more force than he has intended to, but although greatly startled the girl was unharmed. She stared sadly up at him with her wide eyes, suddenly ashamed of her nakedness. "So….your just like all the others then! You're just going to have your fun and throw me away!" she simpered softly.

"That's right." He answered slowly, pulling on his trousers. "I told you that if you could impress me then I would not resist you, but you've failed miserably. Do not follow me anymore. I have wasted enough time in this castle as it is."

Without another word D grabbed his sword from the bed side and swept out of the room.

Asenath sobbed uncontrollably as she slowly built the courage to pull herself up from the ground, and retrieved her gown. She caught a glimpse of her naked self perched on the edge of the bed through the dust coated mirror across from room, and near choked on her tears. Each of her flaws seemed heightened a hundredfold. She'd become accustomed to looking in the mirror and hating the reflection that stared back at, she'd grew used to hating it more and more with each time that she was cast aside after her lovers had grown weary of her. Yet now…now that image was far too vile, far to grotesque even for her own eyes. Yet through her wavering tears she was unable to tear her sight from its wretchedness…perhaps she clung desperately to it for an explanation as to why gorgeous, perfect D had thrown her away like all the others. She stared at it so hard that when she saw the form within the mirror distort she thought nothing of it in her numbness. Her image soon twisted and then faded away into utter blackness, she frowned and caught hold her sobs and moved curiously toward the mirror. When a myriad of red eyes opened in the blackness she screamed and leapt backward, but a voice seemed to drift from beyond the glass. It was a calm, measured and smooth voice with a strange, musical accent.

"Do not be afraid Asenath. I am here to help you."

"What…." Said the girl in terror at the disembodied eyes that were burning from the darkness of the mirror, "what….how do you know my name…"

"I have known about you for many years now Asenath."

Her frown deepened, "Then you're only going to use me. Go away!"

With this the strange voice laughed, there was slight maniacal tone to it but strange as it sounded coming from no source other than that mirror it did not frighten the girl. She had seen stranger things. "I am the King of the Nobility my dear, what use would a mere human girl such as you have to me?"

She stared hard at the blinking eyes, "Then why would you help me?"

"Call it vengeance. I know just as well as you a girl such as you would be very useful against the abomination that is my dear son. He humiliated you terribly Asenath…surely you want to retaliate?"

She trembled, D's harsh words, his possessive hands burned within her memory. "What do you want me to do?"

"Listen to me…."


	3. Chapter 3: The Zoophagous

**Pale**

**Chapter Three: The Zoophagous**

Note: Sorry once more for the delay! Life has been crazy. I pray that there won't be so long a gap between updates. I really like to try to have my chapters ready to go in a week or so. Anyway, enjoy, I am very happy with this!

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"_My homicidal maniac is of a peculiar kind. I shall have to invent a new classification for him, and call him a zoophagous (life eating.) maniac; what he desires is to absorb as many lives as he can." – Dracula, Bram Stoker. Pg 61. _

_**One Month Later**_

"I'll say it again, just to make sure that you are getting the message loud and clear Pretty Boy. What you did to that girl was damned….gaahhh!" the hoarse little voice was cut off by its own pained shriek as the sharpened point of a dagger plunged into its mouth.

D winced as the point of his own dagger jutted thorough his left hand, and faintly groaned as he pulled the knife from his palm. The appendage appeared to twitch in its own misery.

"I thought I told you, whatever it is that you're referring to I am sick and tried of hearing it. Do something useful and just shut up." D hissed glaring down at the miniature face within his palm.

Perhaps the symbiote was too wounded to attempt speech, but more than likely it was too shocked by its host's actions and it remained in this stunned silence. D pulled the worn scarf from around his neck and wrapped the fabric tightly about his bleeding palm. There was a noticeable and astonishing sluggishness to D's movements.

Indeed if any were to glance upon the Hunter at that moment they might have felt a queer sense of humiliation upon seeing him, as though they were looking at a masterful piece of art that had been vandalized. There were heavy dark circles beneath the Hunters pitiless black eyes which gave his face a sunken and worn appearance. The pencil fine lines about his brow that Asenath had witnessed in her obsession were now utterly obvious. His hair hung in limp drapes down his back and face, lacking any luster. Had she been there Asenath surely would have noticed that there appeared to be more silvery strands, especially about the temples. Even the jewels D wore failed to shimmer. The sleek cybernetic horse he road appeared to be shimmering far brighter than the once gorgeous Hunter. Any that witnessed D now and had no knowledge of the gleaming being he had once been would have seen only a weary, middle aged drifter.

A month had passed since D had found sleep, and the lack of it was clearly affecting him. His eyes glanced wearily across the twisted and gloomy forest that rose around him, at the overgrown path that he followed, and the crumbling stone ruins that seemed vaguely familiar but he failed to place them. He was certain he'd seen these landmarks several times before in his travels, but the name of this forest, the reason he had chose to follow this path was well beyond his grasp. He merely roamed about in a weary daze, wondering why he chose to ride a cybernetic horse when the other travelers he passed road in vehicles. He could not recall why he chose to wear such strange adornments; no other traveler wore jewels, armor or such a large black hat. All he was certain of was his blood curse and the fact that the creature that appeared to be living in his left hand of all places must have some purpose, even if it had yet to show it. All it currently did was tease him for his vulnerability and remind him constantly of a sin he'd committed and long forgotten regarding an obsessive girl.

The tenderness of his eyes was terribly excruciating, and his sight was constantly blurred with the fatigue he suffered. His limbs throbbed in weariness, and to his perception he moved as slowly as though he were constantly threading water. He could just recall that this was a dangerous predicament to be in and he knew what had caused such malaise.

D had been well aware that the plants, toxins and dangerous serums he'd been creating were highly addictive, and ran the risk of utter dependence, yet his haughty craving for divine guidance forced him to accept the risk. If any anything, vampires and dhampirs were more susceptible to chemical addictions in addition to their undying lust of lifeblood. It was his dependency upon his own creations that was now his undoing.

He could clearly recall his beloved's face yet her frail memory offered him no guidance. D had taken three syringes of his last concoction with him before leaving, yet had not used them. He had been hoping to overcome his addiction, hoping to hear or see a sign of were he was to go next without the use of drugs. Each time he lay down to sleep he felt only a yearning chasm of need that screamed for the enrapturing unconsciousness only his drug could provide. He refused it each night, and it fought him viciously in turn.

By now it was common occurrence for flashes of figures, distorted shapes, and colors to dance before D's weary eyes, as though trying to confuse him, but his steely will reminded him that they were merely hallucinations caused by his fatigue. He gave them no heed, not even to the constant vision he saw of livid red eyes that peered out from the shadows, sometimes he would see the terrible orb within the center of the pendant he wore, or in the palm of his left hand.

The creature that resided within his hand claimed that it could easily help him, but it chose instead to mock him and let D suffer the pain of withdrawal. "You brought this on yourself Pretty Boy; I told you it was a fuckin' stupid idea the whole time. Clean up your own godamn mess, I sick of being your slave!"

An ominous rumble rent the sky pulling D's thoughts from his weary misery. He pushed up the brim of his hat and was slightly shocked to see that the sky had darkened into a forbidding steel grey, heavy with the promise of day's worth of wind and rain. A moment later a bolt of lightening snaked across the dark clouds, an angry wind began to assault the trees. Already cool drops of rain began to fall onto the Hunter's face.

He could recall well enough that rainfall would serve to weaken him even worse than he already was, yet why that was so remained a mystery to him. Soon he was caught in a heavy downpour and he could feel the strength ebbing away from him, carried along with the water that poured down his clothing. He searched desperately about the path for something thing might provide him some sort of rudimentary protection from the oppressive water. All he could see were the crimson eyes glaring about the forest.

D had to pull the reins sharply and bring the cyborg horse to a hasty stop to avoid colliding with the figure that was crouched within the muddy pathway. So desperate and so unfocused had been D's search that he'd failed to see the man completely.

The figure rose. It wore a grey robe that was almost as badly frayed as D's own clothing. Eagerly the figure pushed back the cowl and meet D's eyes. The face it revealed was of a middle aged man with a grizzled, weather beaten face and graying auburn hair that fell in ragged waves about his face. The vivid blue orbs that glared out at D were feral in their appearance…yet not entirely hostile. They were the eyes of man suffering from some extreme bloodlust, yet the blood he craved was not of the dhampir he was standing before.

"Out of my way." D said firmly, hoping only his ability to intimate would be enough to frighten the man into submission as D had no desire for a fight in his present state.

At the man only smiled in an especially manic sort of way, "That is rather rude, even for a Frontier drifter like you." His voice was especially hoarse, much like the voice of the symbiote. "I merely wanted to offer you the shelter of my home, sir. You look worn ragged and this storm is likely to last for the better part of week. Come now, surely you don't want to be soaked for so long."

"I am used to it." D answered simply, eager to be onward.

"Come now, I loathe to take no for an answer. I promise you no malice, or ill will. I simply cannot stand to see another of my kind caught defenseless in the rain."

"You're a dhampir?" D inquired, a spark on consciousness returning to his mind. The situation was turning out to be more interesting than it first seemed, something already was queer about it, didn't dhampirs loath their own kind?

"Of sorts. This way, stranger." The man rasped with a wider, madder smile.

Utterly aware of the weakness in his limbs D climbed off the horse and tethered it to a tree; he made certain that his scabbard was secure across his back before he followed the shambling form of the strange man. At the very least the man had aroused D's curiosity and he could foresee no harm in investigating him. D had no destination to be at after all.

He followed the stranger to a very peculiar sort of dwelling in which a door was carved directly into a low hill that was overcrowded with wild tress and shrub, yet it looked as it someone had made a small effort to give beauty to the dwelling as lilacs and morning glories grew around the circular door. Seeing this strange dwelling filled D with an overpowering sense of vertigo, followed sharply by a sad nostalgia yet over what he could not fathom.

D had to stoop deeply to enter the dwelling and once inside he still had crouch to keep from touching the ceiling. The stench of the place was overpowering, a nauseating reek of animal waste and rotting carcasses. The dwelling was overcrowded with all manner of animals, and insects. Great spider webs hung in the corners, the air was thick with the buzzing of flies and wasps, and cats, dogs, deer, wolves, were-tigers alike all lounged lazily about the place. The only thing that outnumbered the animals themselves was the carcasses of those that came before them.

The man glanced back at D, certain to see disgust on the Hunters face but D was as expressionless as always. D followed the man deep into the miniature house, which was more like a furnished burrow than anything else, it had a tiny kitchen and living area but it was to a small bedroom that the man led him to. The bed room was a stark contrast to the rest of the place, it was immaculately clean and the ethereal scent of nag champia lingered in the air, drowning out the stench of animals. There was a small bed against the wall, and through the opened doors of the closet D could see that it was crammed with both silk suits and cloaks fitting for a Nobel man, and white, elaborate gowns fitting for his bride or else his favorite concubine. Coupled with the enchanting incense, and the soft patter of the rain against the window there was something almost serene about this room. Almost like home.

"This is where The Master and his slave sleep when they are kind enough to visit, but they are away for a few weeks. It's only fair of me to offer this room to my guest."

D only nodded faintly, "Your name?"

"Ah, forgive my rudeness. I have yet to even introduce myself, I am R.M. And your name stranger?"

D could just faintly grasp from his clouded senses that there was something deeply sinister about that name, something utterly familiar. It was certainly similar to a name he'd known before. "Call me D." was his automatic answer.

R.M led D over to where two overstuffed arm chairs sat beside a miniature fireplace; a small fire was licking up one or two flames within the hearth. He beckoned the Hunter to sit, and then momentarily R.M left the room only to return clutching two things in his hands. The first was a white, lop eared rabbit that he held by the scruff of the neck as it kicked about in wild fear, the second was a sparrow that was fluttering wildly in his thick hands. R.M sat down in the chair across from D and passed the frantic rabbit into his hands.

"Eat. I beg of you sir. It pains me beyond words to see one of my own kind in such a miserable state."

Ordinarily D would have refused such an obvious and gruesome offering, yet he knew well enough an infusion of fresh blood would help to mitigate his weary agony, and thus he accepted the animal with a nod. The rabbit let out a terrified shriek as it changed hands and D snapped its neck all too easily, and bit down hard into the furry flesh. A soft sigh of content escaped from D as the succulent liquid flowed past his tongue, and rushed through his ravaged body. The light in his eyes was almost blinding as he drained the creature.

R.M on the other hand did not choose to drain his prey; rather he took the poor bird right into his teeth and bit down on the neck. He looked obscenely like a cat caught guilty of eating a bird. The teeth R.M possessed were merely blunt, human teeth. No blood light flashed in his eyes as the crimson life-force ran down his lips and hands. He ate the sparrow much as a human would have done a roast chicken, but he showed not repulsion that the meat was raw.

When he was finished the man grinned as he neatly lay the bones aside and reached into the pocket of his robe, and brought forth a truly ghastly assortment of insects into his hand. Fat, glowing spiders, foot long wiggling maggots, even gold wasps whose wings had been cut off crawled about his palm. "Would you care for a dessert, Mr. D?"

D accepted one of the fat spiders and bit down into the thorax. The blood and venom was both highly flavorful and nutritious as well, spiders such as these could be found all over the world and where a valuable food source to the hungry vampire or dhampir.

"I thought that you said you were a dhampir." D questioned the man softly.

R.M smiled bitterly, "I said "of sorts." I could only dream of being like you, sir, of being a dhampir, and yet you and I not so different. I am born of Nobel blood and experimentation just as you, and like you I must have lifeblood in order to survive, I must consume life. That it is the purpose of my menagerie you found upon entering, I am fascinated with life and I need lives. Consuming life endows me with strength greater than any mans, yet it does not make me immortal. I shun the sunlight, yet it does not harm me. I am neither human, nor Nobel, nor dhampir."

At this D nodded with understanding, "You are zoophagous. A human experiment by the Nobility. They were often used as slaves to Nobles, promised to one day be given true immortality." The rich blood had unclouded D's thoughts enough for him to focus on the strange matter at hand. The stranger seemed harmless enough, while a zoophagous was capable of amazing strength and terrifying madness they were utterly powerless against those born of true Nobility.

D stared solemnly down at the corpse of the rabbit across his knees; a sad smile crossed his face. The sad sacrifice to his curse reminded him of the countless rabbits he'd killed and then hidden desperately from his mother. If she found out that he'd been satiating his blood curse than he'd had plenty of reason to feel fear. For some reason her blows had been the only ones that had hurt him, but her tears where twice as painful.

Something about this whole, quaint hovel reminded him of Mina.

The miserable corpse also served to remind him of Luna. He could not help but to stroke the beast's downy fur in homage of her, recalling how she'd wept when she'd killed a rabbit much like this one. Now that he could recall her face, he could almost see the disproval in her eyes if she were to know of R.M's diet.

Nymphs had been the natural caretakers and healers of the Earth, and were capable of consuming only the fruits of the Earth, but now even their loving presence has faded from the world and descended into the unforgiving darkness, along with the Nobility, along with D's distant beloved. Even D could not help but feel a pang of sadness when he entered forests gone wild without the care of the Nymphs, or rode past the decaying ruins of their earthen colonies.

R.M gathered the bones and the rabbit corpse into his arms and disposed of them outside the door, "The Master is especially sensitive to cleanliness, and his beautiful salve deserves only the finest as well." He explained.

D had leaned back into the armchair, his hat lay across the top, he appeared to be listening to the soft rain interspaced with the rumble of thunder, and his expression was contemplative as though listening to some sort of hidden message within the soft song.

"Why do I know this place?" he inquired softly.

"I don't know Mr. D. It has been here for thousands of years passed from one to another, and quite obviously is well protected from the weather. Mayhap you have been here before."

D said nothing, and merely tried to pull his way through the labyrinth tangle of his thoughts. It was a vain effort still…there was a memory here, and idea there, a thought, a hope, but his head remained a hopeless tangle box of weariness. He must sleep and he knew of only one way to guarantee that.

"Your master is gone for the moment you say?" D inquired.

"Yes, I don't expect him back for weeks."

"Than may I intrude upon your hospitality for a while longer? I am in desperate need of rest away from the rain."

"Of course my friend" Said the zoophagous. "My home is yours."

"Thank you for your hospitality." D answered and slowly unbuckled the scabbard of his sword from his back. R.M shuffled out of the room, and back into the reeking zoo that he apparently lived with.

D pulled off his cape and coat and laid them across one of the armchairs. The armor D wore on his chest, shoulder and legs was leather armed with titanium tipped spikes. It was nowhere near as practical as the titanium alloyed plates he'd once donned two thousand years past, but the Hunter had little need for such protection in a world near empty of Nobility with no need for Hunters. No need for protection in a world that bowed low before him. Therefore his armor was far more comfortable and he felt no need to remove it for sleep.

He paused momentarily at the closet and touched the white gowns that hung there, R.M had said that his master had a lovely slave, yet these clothes where far to elegant for a slave. They were clothes fit for a Nobel Queen. He let the matter pass and reached into a slender compartment of his utility belt, producing one of the three syringes filled with his addictive concoction.

His only hesitation was of the situation at hand. Of course it was beyond reckless to fall into such complete unconsciousness in the hands of a stranger, yet it was twice as unwise for D to proceed another step in his utter vulnerability. Besides, as gripping as the drug was in its power, D could still retain a sliver of his consciousness, if the zoophagous dared to attack him than the Nobel slave would not have a chance. He'd been fully aware of Asenath's silly obsession of him and her daring attempts to gain his affections yet her attempts had been harmless. If the zoophagous had malice on his mind than D had not doubt in his ability to crush him thoughtlessly.

With a slight defeated look D pressed the needle into his carotid and injected the whole of the liquid into his veins. He felt the frigidness as the substance rushed into his bloodstream, and instantly a gripping wave of intense relaxation rushed through his body. The syringe slipped though his fingers and shattered on the wooden floor below. As he lay down on the bed his senses where again flooded with a sense of nostalgia that possessed him ever bit as intensely as the drug had. It was triggered by the scent that lingered upon the pillow, the sheets and the blanket, a delicate perfume that was almost floral. It could only have been the scent of a woman. Something about it, about the whole of the house gave D the urge to reminisce about a childhood that had long faded into the oblivion of time, to simply lay within the strangely familiar bed, and to rest forever. Even the soft patter of the rain against the window was wholly familiar.

Soon after the nostalgia had run its course D's consciousness was drowned out in a welcome, domineering haze of blackness, the likes of which D had almost given up hope in knowing ever again. When the zoophagous later peeked inside to check up on his visitor he found the Hunter curled in a fetal position beneath the covers. From what he could see of the Hunters expression through the black veil of his hair it seemed vulnerable and utterly sorrowful.

* * *

For three days and nights D lay unmoving, and scarcely breathing in his slumber. Only the spasm like twitching of his eyes gave evidence to the dreams that filled the hazy blackness he'd been desperately seeking. Those dreams were disjointed as always, images interlaced with memories, until on the third day coherence returned to the images flashing before him, and the face he'd so sought after came forth and the memory of a moment he'd long ago forgotten invaded his restless slumber.

_D stared hard at the creature that bore the unmistakable snout, glaring eyes and fur of a werewolf but D scrutinized it as if it were something more, something far more terrible. "What is it?" Luna asked after a time, fearing the answer._

"_That wasn't just a werewolf, it was a true werewolf."_

"_That can't be, true werewolves died with the Nobels. They are extinct nowadays."_

_D's steely eyes remained fixated on the beast, "Not entirely, there are still a few Nobles alive that still keep them as body guards but this is more than that…" D's voice was so cold it sounded as though shards of ice where falling from his lips._

"_Then what…"_

_D gripped the beasts jaw and roughly forced its head backward, the broken spinal column allowed the head to move far to easily and there, just on its neck, akin to where a Nobel might bite was a bare patch of fur. On this patch was a vivid red brand that seemed to be glowing in the darkness. It was shaped like a stylized Egyptian eye that glared crimson. Even the Nymph's heart seized with fear, "The Crimson Eye…" she breathed._

_D's body was trembling, but not with fear. His own eyes were glowing red, brilliant with undulated hatred. " The Mark of Dracula." He hissed the words as though they were burning his tongue._

"_Maybe it's not what you think…" Luna heard the hoarse little voice from his left hand pipe up hesitantly._

"_No. It's exactly what I think." He answered and turned from the scene and back toward the house._

"His mark…." D murmured in a half waking state. Looking down at the werewolf he saw that it seemed to have faded from sight, that everything was gone. He was alone and suspended with a black oblivion. That was until a thousand gleaming red eyes opened against the blackness, each livid pupil was fixated upon him with hatred that looked as if all the violence, all the rage and suffering within the earth had been fixated into a singular point.

"Of course…" D hissed in the nothingness, "Why didn't I suspect_ you_ before? You've been watching me all this time."

A low, mocking laughter rumbled through the eye filled darkness.

Yet D's focus was pulled away from the frightful vacuum, into the awareness of a more corporal, more tangible danger. It was fainter, and whatever it was meant attack his unconscious body beyond the realm of dreams, therefore the attacker must have been very foolish indeed, but still it was not an enemy to be underestimated.

It was simple for D to leave the oblivion, all he has to do was to turn away and force his eyes open. His hands flew first for the dagger that was sheathed at his waist and then he locked eyes with this attacker. R.M was standing before him, the mad man's once twisted body was standing fully erect and a long bowie knife was glittering in his hand, his eyes were gleaming with the same crimson madness that had haunted D relentlessly.

D moved like an elegant blur of death as he unsheathed the knife and planted it brutally in R.M's solar plexus, long before the man had a chance to lower his own weapon. The man gasped in his agony and stumbled, D grasped the man by his throat, and pinned up against the wall.

"No! No Master, Please! I tried to, I tired!" the zoophagous cried to seemingly to nothing. Now that D's fatigue had been washed away all the pieces had all fallen into place, and the crazed words of the zoophagous, and the fading blood light in the mans eyes all made perfect sense.

D slammed the palm of his left hand down upon the man's forehead. "You have other names don't you, _Renfield_?"

"Y….yes!" the man sobbed against his will, quite powerless against the symbiote. "Only he calls me Renfield. To all others I am R.M, Renfield the Mortal, or R.H, Renfield the Humble.

"I thought as much." D answered softly, "Immortality is transitory for you, correct? Your master can grant it to you and take it from you at his will."

Renfield nodded near tears, "Yes, I am only a zoophagous, I am the uttermost and deepest devoted to my master. As R.M I am merely a mortal, and a prisoner for disappointing the master. As R.H I am a Nobel, and the masters most humble and loyal servant."

"It was I that took your immortality most recently." D challenged his voice as cold as the steel of his dagger. "What were you doing to serve him in the form of the Nobel, what were your orders?"

"He wanted the Pale One!" Renfield sobbed, all his other words where nothing more than fervent and senseless babbling.

"Why did you lead me here?"

"For the master! He wanted you to have the slave, and to take her as a plea for forgiveness."

It was only upon saying these words that D saw the glimmer of another form caught by the light of the hearth. He must have been especially concentrated on Renfield to have failed to notice her, or else perhaps it was because she carried such a low vibrational frequency that she'd failed detection even from D's acute scenes.

The woman was crouched in the corner of the room; her black, wavy hair partially veiled her face, yet the features that he could see were utterly beautiful. Her skin was nigh translucent in the soft glow of the fire, and she appeared to have an aged, matronly look about her. The eyes that stared disbelievingly back at him were as black and sorrowful as his own eyes. They were his eyes….

Slowly the woman stood. The white gown she wore seemed to glow in the firelight, her hair fell almost to her ankles, her lips trembled as though sobs were soon the escape them and they seemed to be struggling to form the simple syllable that was his name.

Hers was a face that had brought life, brought color, and meaning back to a thousand moments that time had robbed from D.

He let Renfield drop from his grasp, as he drank in the face that had been lost to him for over 11,000 years.

"Mother?" he rasped.


	4. Interlude Part Seven: The Rainstorm

**Pale**

**Interlude Part Seven: The Rainstorm**

_Note: Not my best chapter ever, but I am happy with it. Yes. I am rewriting Dracula a wee bit, but hell the story has been written and changed so much over the years it doesn't really matter. And revisiting parts from the D novels, I am going to do that a few more times before the end. _

* * *

"_It's the rain. It makes me sentimental." – Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust_

_With a soft gasp Mina's eyes flew open; she raised her hand up against the glare of the sunlight that flitted in through the windows. She's come to rather loath the stark light of the day, as it drove away the frail images she'd seen her dreams. She could not recall how many times she'd dreamed of the black clothed figure as it road aimlessly through the hostile Frontier. She could just glimpse the riders face, and his was a face of soul shattering beauty yet his eyes were like twin pools of inky blackness completely devoid of life, drained of all compassion by millennia of sorrow. The gorgeous face always brought such longing to Mina's soul, not of carnal need but of emotional one, she ached to reach out and hold him closer than any other had dared before. _

_Mina hated the sunlight not only because it washed away her strangely beautiful dreams but also it caused Lucy's agony to flair anew. Mina sat upright in her armchair and stared sadly at the pallid form of her friend since childhood, Lucy Westenra. Their childhood memories seemed a lifetime ago as she took in her beloved friend that now lay as if upon a death bed. Her skin was a pale as paraffin; the veins stood out starkly against her skin, her bloodless lips had peeled back from her gums bearing those abhorrent fangs. Presently the helpless woman was writhing feebly in her bed, desperately trying to shield herself from the blinding morning sun that caused the red of her hair to shimmer like flames. _

_A thick hand clamped softly down on Mina's shoulder, she turned and saw the forlorn expression of a middle aged mans face, "It's just no use child…the Nobel attacking her is far beyond our power. I fear we are helpless; there is nothing left for her but the mercy of the stake."_

"_No…" Mina whimpered softly, "Please, Dr. Van Helsing, there must be another way…I know another way!" _

_Abraham Van Helsing ran a hand through his graying hair, "I know, child. But I told you before I am loathe to trust dear Lucy's soul into the hands of potions and witch doctors. Cold hard science is the foundation of the Nobility, there is a genetic link for each of their strange weaknesses and it is with science that our best chance lies." _

"_Well we have no choice!" Mina cried in a rare fit of emotion as she rose up from the chair. She was usually so calm, refined and collected and rarely let her passionate emotions show to any others. "I am going to London right now, Doctor. I have heard rumors for years about the wonders Mother Sabre can do, mayhap she might just know how to help Lucy."_

_With a sorrowful sigh of resignation Van Helsing nodded, "If you must Madam Mina. Please take my horse and for god's sake be careful!"_

_Van Helsing's cyborg horse turned out to be rather dilapidated, and could hardly manage a canter yet this did not surprise Mina. Even well off humans such as the good doctor were only allowed the malfunctioning and discontinued machines and horses the Nobility had no use for. It took Mina more than half of the day to reach the sprawling Nobel and human slave populous of London. It was with a trembling hand that she urged the horse ever onward, terrified to be caught out in the Frontier alone at twilight. _

_However it was not the darkness that caught Mina off guard but a sudden rainstorm. She cursed near tears as she lowered her thin hood against the onslaught of rain and wind, and dug her heels deeper into the horse's belly. The beast gave off a very metallic sounding whine, and with the screech of metal giving way Mina screamed out as the horse bolted forward only to lurch down to the ground. It gave a feeble scream as it fell, its right leg twisted beneath its body and then the beast collapsed fully. Mina twisted about in fright, yet she was far to slow to keep from being pinned down beneath the heavy metal and flesh bulk and the mud soaked pathway. She cried out more in frustration than of pain, the horse's bulk was terribly oppressive yet she'd landed fortunately and her limbs did not feel crushed. She made a feeble attempt to push the useless beast from her but it resulted only in more angry tears._

_It was then that a lone figure stepped out of the rain. Mina's efforts stilled as she took in the slight of the stranger that approached, her breath caught in her throat, she was certain even her heart stopped pounding for a few moments as the figure drew closer and closer. It seemed even the rain was parting so that she could glimpse his gorgeous face and refined features. He wore the most gorgeous velvet attire that Mina had ever dared to imagine, it seemed the rain was loathe to mar it's surface and his black hair hung in a sleek, perfect drape down his back, his eyes were startlingly blue, a blue akin to the ocean depths. It was utterly obvious by the mans pallid skin and enchanting aura that he was a Nobel, and while Mina should have been screaming and shrinking back with fear she could do nothing but to watch awestruck as the man knelt by her side. _

_He slid his long fingers under the bulk of the beast and with no noticeable effort heaved the horse from Mina's body. She trembled as she rose to a sitting position, her arms moving protectively across her soaked body. She was utterly ashamed of the thin rags she wore compared to the heavy garments of her Nobel rescuer. While Lucy's family was quite wealthy for humans, Mina was no more than a lowly school mistress. Boldly the Nobel reached out and laid his freezing, hard hand against her cheek, tipping her face up to meet his gaze. _

"_Sir…" she began but the protest died on her lips as she fell hopelessly within the gaze of those azure eyes, of the stark glow of his skin in contrast to the pitch black of his hair. _

"_Are you hurt?" he said speaking in a lilting, musical accent._

"_No…" she whispered just barely remembering to move her lips. _

"_You must be more careful my dear." The Nobel smiled, revealing his sharp canines yet there was no true malice to his words or his dangerous smile. "Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Prince Vlad Dracula, of Transylvania ." He held out his hand to assist her in standing._

_Her better judgment long cast to the wind Mina took his hand, "Wilhelmina Murray." She breathed, unsure why she had used her maiden name._

_His cold lips touched her trembling hand delicately, "I am honored Madam Mina." _

* * *

"D…" the woman that was undoubtedly Wilhelmina Murray whimpered and held her hand out before him.

D did not hesitate a moment, he could hear the soft rise and falling of her breathe and the low throbbing on her heart in her breast. No ghost, illusion or hologram could have imitated such a life force. D rushed into his mothers arms and crushed her to his armored chest and with a vehement sob Mina fell against him, locking her arms around her son's broad shoulders. D had to take care not to embrace her too tightly, least he crush her. Feeling her soft and matronly passionate embrace once again was an experience that seemed so familiar. It was a sensation that he had long forgotten he'd ever longed for. He parted from it first to drink in her face, pushing back her hair so as to fully take in her beloved face. Her features were so like D's, she possessed the same graceful brow and straight nose, as well as the same narrow, and tormented black eyes. All that was different were that her lips were full and sensual. Age had marred her otherwise lovely face, etching itself deeply about her eyes and her mouth that seemed set in a firm sadness.

Mina raised her hands to push back D's hair as well and her face was marked with obvious despair as she gazed upon him. It was as if all her son's glorious beauty and been stolen away in her absence, and replaced with thin lines across his brow and the silvery strands about his temples. Still she did her best to hide her sorrow as she pulled him again to her and kissed his cool cheek, D followed her example and for a few moments' mother and son exchanged their first kisses in over ten millennia. Occasionally their lips met in the tame manner only a close mother and son could have managed to share. Tears of joy poured freely from Mina's eyes, D had failed to notice that a single bloody trail had begun down his own cheek.

"Take me from here, D." she whispered softly.

D nodded, keeping his arm firmly about Mina's shoulders. He cast a glance at Renfield that lay gasping on the ground, weakly trying to pull out the dagger through his abdomen. Another, slender blade flashed through the air and appeared to grow with a bloody spurt from the center of the zoophagous' skull. Renfield gave a single pained gasp before sinking unmoving to the floor.

Mina gave a terrified little shriek as she witnessed this, D regarded her with a sad, but oddly detached glance as he lead her away from the scene, quickly grabbing his coat, hat and sword.

Mina stumbled over own feet, and then fully collapsed as her knees buckled. D turned back. Her face was stark white and sheen of sweat had broken across her brow.

"Mother?" he inquired, still disbelieving of the simple word.

"I…I don't have much strength." She gasped, "I don't think I can walk anymore."

D nodded. For the first time he sensed that the throb of her heart was much slower and more irregular than for a healthy human, and her breath came in sporadic little gasps that couldn't have done much to fuel her body. It was quite evident that her impossibly alive body was clearly resisting this unnatural resurgence into life. D knelt and gathered her easily into his arms. He was used to the women he saved from distress weighing next to nothing when he carried them, but Mina's weight was truly astonishing. Her body seemed to carry no weight, seemed to near defy the laws of gravity and mass with its lightness. He could feel a steady tremor in her limbs as he held her. The same enchanting scent that had caught D's attention when he lay down in the bed again flooded through his scenes, he'd long ago forgotten the comforting fragrance that lingered about her. The smell of roses, and honeysuckle: the smell of comfort.

A fragile smile moved across her lips as D struggled through the reeking zoo that was the living room of the hovel. "This place sure has changed from when we lived here, yes?"

"We…we've been here before?" D inquired rather overwhelmed by the sudden prospect of a conversation with his mother. All these countless years he'd dreamed of glimpsing her, holding her and hearing her voice yet he'd never quite dreamed what it might be like to actually speak to her. What could he possibly say? What could he ever ask?

"Of course. You don't remember? Well…" she laughed bitterly. "It was a very long time ago. This was the second house that we fled to when you were young. I think you were only two in human years. You were reading that ancient fairy tale, The Lord of the Rings, and you said this house was like the burrows the hobbits lived in, and you called it Bag End."

"I…that's right…" said D with a soft nostalgic tone he kicked the circular door open. The rain was still falling softly outside and his cyborg horse was tethered several feet away. Although the area was vastly changed and overgrown from when D had seen the forest in his youth, now he could vividly recall living in its bounty.

The forest had once been teaming with the glow of fireflies, glowing spiders and fairies. The trees, plants and streams had been immaculately cared for by the shy and gorgeous Nymphs. The Nymphs had given Mina Bag End thoughtlessly, their wide eyes already charmed by the face of the gorgeous, albeit quite child in her arms. For the next two years D recalled living in these woods, the memories of the fairies he'd caught in glass jars and of the games he'd played came flooding back to him. He adored the Lord of the Rings so much that he and Mina had turned the whole of the forest into an imaginary Middle Earth, converting fair village of Nymphs to the north into Rivendell, the popular town outside of the woods into Gondor, and the decaying hill at the edge of the wood into Mt. Doom . How many times had D taken one of his mothers golden rings and become Frodo on his dangerous quest, how many times had his mother been a variety of characters, from Samwise the Brave to Sauron himself? How many forgotten memories did this decaying woodland hold?

"You remember" Mina cooed softly as she stared at her son's contemplative face. "You look so much like your father…" she whispered as though she did not wish him to hear but had forgotten his nature.

"I always thought that I took more after you." He answered firmly as he easily mounted the horse, never once releasing his mother from his grasp.

He dug his spurs firmly into the side of the horse; the beast whinnied in response and shot deep into the wood in a blur of silver. Although the vast changes in technology had all but done away with cybernetic mounts, D had been unwilling to surrender his preferred means of transportation, so he merely upgraded them to keep in pace with his enemies. The beast's titanium legs moved with fluid ease at the speed of light, and devices within the beast's saddle kept the forces of gravity from overwhelming the rider at this blurring speed. Although the woodland passed in a haze of mist and color, D could easily discern the shape of each and every tree, every rock and twist in the path before him. With a whimper Mina buried her face into his coat, and D kept his hand pressed against her face as though shielding her from her fears.

* * *

_At some point the clouds broke and as he watched the little bus disappear into the sun-showered distance, a faint smile started to rise on D's lips. _

_D urged his horse onward, turning it away from the well trodden roadway that lead from the village of Tepes and ultimately toward the Capital and into the wilds overgrowth of a woodland to the right of him. Like D's smile the sunlight was fleeting, and all the soon a grey mire shrouded the sky. Moisture became thick in the air; soon the heavens were to break._

_The Hunters head was hung low, as though he were wearily sleeping as he road, yet his eyes were wide opened and clear, yet if any were there to stare into the black depths they would have been utterly paralyzed by the frozen wasteland of sorrow that was reflected within them. _

_A thin shaft of sunlight peered through the blanket of clouds, casting a frail beam across the path. D's face grew strangely startled as he beheld the pathetic beam, for a second it seemed familiar to his eyes. It was much like the blinding light that had been the last ebb and flow of her life, the dying throes of the girl whom he'd grown to adore. Somehow the girl with her larger than life personality, her beaming intelligence and insistent nature had charmed him…and yet he'd failed her all the same. _

_The shaft of sunlight faded away, replaced by the oppressive black of the sky. _

_A gust of wind rent through the tress yet strangely the gust sounded only like her voice, her final words: "Goodbye D…Oh…the potential we had." The sigh of the wind could have been her final gasp of life, the hiss of her flesh as it crumbled into sparkling ash._

_**It's not my habit to leave failures around. **__It was Dracula's voice that whispered from the darkness of D's mind. _

_That was all Lina Belan had been in the end. Another failure. Another mistake predisposed to die for the imperfections Dracula himself had infected her with. She'd been a girl who should have spent her life in the sunlight, fearful of the Nobility, heading off the Capital to dream of becoming something more..._

_Rather she had been infected, cursed with Nobel experimentation. She had been condemned to darkness, to her death sentence, and D had been powerless to stop it. She'd been so like his own mother…another helpless woman infected with the obsession of his father._

_The rainfall burst from the clouds just as unexpectedly as the crimson colored tears slipped down D's cheeks, a gasping sob quickly followed them. The rain was falling in a heavy torrent as D reined his horse to a stop, and dismounted. The Hunter was actually trembling slightly with emotion as he fell back against the bole of an iron oak tree and allowed his tears to overcome him. He so hated the feeling of how they caused his eyes to sting, his cheeks and mouth to ache, and the way the tears stained the faded scarf about his neck yet he was powerless to stop them. He merely kept his face hidden behind his trembling gloved hand._

"_Lina…" he whispered to the rain, certain that he was utterly alone. "Why? She was so innocent…"_

"_Come on there, D" raised a very shocked sounding hoarse voice. "You can't save everyone…really any that Daddy-O has touched is a lost cause."_

_D nodded faintly to the voice yet his gasping sobs did not cease. "Why me…why did I alone survive his tests?"_

_For this the symbiote had no answer. "You know…it's never too late to stop this. You've spent your whole immortality chasing ghosts, and watching everyone you've ever formed somewhat of an attachment to die by his hands. It's not too late to stop."_

_D's head rose, the last of the bloody tears flowed down his cheeks, "No. Never." He said solemnly. He dried his face with his scarf and took a long, deep breath. The rain washed the last bloody rivulets from his gorgeous visage. Calmly he mounted his horse, his expression now cool and fixated. _

_The rain that fell about him may have momentarily soaked the landscape, yet in the long run it did not truly change the earthen façade of the land. It merely served to nourish it. That same rang true for D's short lived tears, they'd marred his cheeks for a moment, yet left them unchanged. As D road on now, he held his head high. _

* * *

Twilight was falling as D at last brought his horse to a stop at a small clearing far from any town he was aware of. The rainfall had tapered to a light mist, yet Mina was shivering terribly even within the warmth of D's arms. He tried to set her down onto her feet, yet she crumpled into a frail heap on the ground, crying out weakly as she fell. D wrapped her tightly in his cape and pushed back her sodden hair. "What's happened? How are you here and why are you like this?"

She merely shook her head. "I….I don't understand it myself. I just don't know. All I know was that I started breathing, I saw your fathers face and I have been with him until now. It was maybe two weeks ago…I am just not sure. Nothing is right. Everything I see is harsh, cruel and cold…."

He softly laid his left hand across her forehead. Her weak condition was all too apparent to him now, her lips lacked any color and her eyes appeared glazed, she was now running a fever. A familiar voice spoke, "Well…I have no clue how he's done it but somehow Dracs has indeed brought her back to life. Only whatever body he's used is protesting it, it knows that there should be no life for Mina. She's been dead for over ten millennia; her home is the land beyond the veil. It's trying to force her out….I don't think that she is going to make it another day, D. I am sorry."

Fevered tears sprang in Mina's black eyes as she reached up and pushed back a lock of D's lifeless hair. "What's happened to you my son? You look so…."

"Human?" he finished softly.

Mina seemed too ashamed to answer. Dhampirs were known to very slowly age, yet that was dependant upon the strength of the Nobel blood in their veins. With D's power taken into account he should have remained unchanged until the end of the Earth.

"I don't quite understand it. It started over 2,000 years ago right before I meet…." He trailed off, unwilling to speak the name. "..Before then I had no true will to live and to fight. I just survived. I haven't had anything to live for since he took her from me, and now age seems to be catching up with me."

Another sob over took Mina, "I am so sorry my son. I know what he's done to you, what he's still wants to do to you…I can't understand how you can bear such pain."

"I learned from you, Mother." He answered gently.

Perhaps in the past Wilhelmina Murray had been strong enough to bear the tremendous weight of her dark fate, of the terrible stigma of rising a beautiful dhampir child, but now her form bore no such strength as she trembled, sobbed and slipped ever closer to death in her sons arms.

D pulled his mother tighter to him, and mitigated by her own cracked facade he let his own tears fall, knowing well that a few tears for his dying mother couldn't break his fierce spirit. Mother and son remained locked in there embrace the whole of the night, until at last Mina's sobs quieted into the soft even breaths of sleep. D laid his head against her chest, right against the soft irregular drumming of her heart. Countless memories of when he'd done this as a child welled within him, threatening to cause more of his cursed tears. The sound of her heart would remind him of what it had been like to be secure, safe and warm within her womb and would never failed to lull him into sleep.

And even now, 11,000 years later and despite his complete dependency on his drugs the soft beat of his mother's heart did not fail to pull him into slumber.


	5. Chapter 5:Messages

**Pale **

_Note: YAY! Sarah is writing again, my schedule is still cramped but I am thrilled to be writing D's world once again! Hm….I keep telling myself my crossovers will be subtitle and yet…I just can't help myself, lol. Harry Potter just keeps clawing it's way into D's world. Okay so I am toying a bit with the happy go lucky ending at the end of Deathly Hallows, but ah well….nobody was happy with " all is well" anyway._

* * *

**Chapter Five: Messages**

_" If only angels could prevail we'd been the way we were, Johanna. Wake up Johanna, another bright, red day. We learn, Johanna, to say goodbye." - Johanna (Reprise), Sweeney Todd_

D was the first to awake, moving carefully from Mina's embrace. He stared silently at the circular clearing that they lay within; the expression upon his face was quite unreadable, although there was a hint of sorrow in his eyes. The trees had grown, changed, died and been born anew since the last time he'd laid eyes on them, and the plant life was sparser, as well as utterly different, yet it was undeniable that this location held a significant meaning for the Hunter. Gently he pulled himself fully from the embrace of his sleeping mother and rose toward where his horse was tethered. He reached under the beast's saddle, and pried his slender fingers into a thin crack into the metal work. It was a hidden compartment that was filled mostly with spare daggers, medical supplies in the event that he needed to help another and a wide assortment of books.

The book that D pulled free from the clutter was a bejeweled book that looked more fitting for a museum than an aimless Hunter. He returned to Mina's side and carefully opened the book. Dust clung to the pages, yet other wise the book was in good condition, it had been exceptionally well cared for over the ages. The seller had told D that it was an ancient translation of a story book from a time well before that of the Great Poisoning, but D had bought the fairy tale book merely as a curiosity. It went by the title of _Tales of Beetle the Bard_. The fables told within the were whimsical, and ridiculous as most tales of the Wizards had a tendency to be, yet there had been one tale that had sparked the Hunters interest enough to keep it with him, at least for now.

The book fell readily open to the story he sought out, _The Tale of the Three Brothers_. His eyes swept swiftly over pages, although the words had long before been burned into his memory. The invisibility cloak. The Elder wand. The Resurrection Stone. Each was a relic that had been cheated from Deaths hands, each an object of truly coveted power.

D's eyes however did not linger long on the words that spoke of the coveted relics, but moved downward toward the middle of the story. He lightly touched the ink of the dreaded sentence he'd been seeking as though willing it away with the sweep of his hand. The ink however did not disappear…yet it did move.

Suddenly minuscule little words written in a frantic script appeared within the left margarine of the page. The words multiplied and soon were actually pushing aside the words already printed on the book to make themselves known. His expression was only of minimal interest. Wizards were few and far between these days, as they had a habit of breeding only with the limited numbers of their own pureblooded kind, nowadays only their books remained behind. To the avid book collector it wasn't at all uncommon to run across a book that behaved in ways such as this, D himself had once spent near five days in the spell of a book that you literally could not stop reading.

However the reason these words had chose to remain hidden until the time of D's chance touch upon the page became soon clear.

_These will likely be the final words that I, Harry James Potter, will ever put to quill and parchment. I don't even know if anyone will read them, I am just following orders at this point. The Seers told me to write to whoever you are in this book. I don't even know where to start, what I am supposed to say, and why I have to write this letter in the book that was translated by my dead best friend, but I suppose I should do it anyway. _

_I guess I will start from the beginning. It has been fifteen years since the Great Poisoning as we call it now, since the nuclear war that has left life on Earth crawling in the shadows. The way I understand it is that the world was divided the day the bombs fell, the first group is the Muggles, or the non magical folk. They scurry about, terrified, starving, poisoned and helpless in this terrible place the world has become. The second group is the Wizards, and I am their appointed leader. I didn't want this position really…I lost so many I loved the first time I lead my people, and once again I have lost most everyone. We have some hope at least, we've found ways to make the Earth habitable and we try to help the Muggles, yet they'd sooner kill us and brand us freaks. Lastly there are the dark ones. They are the demons, the wraths, and all the monsters imaginable that have crawled out from the dark corners of the Earth, they were prepared for humanity to destroy themselves in a nuclear war and they are lead by a monster far more terrifying than any I have known. I have heard of many names for him. Vlad the Great, the Dracul Lord, The No Life King, Alucard the Nobel but to me he is known only as his birth name, Vlad Dracula. After all, I learned long ago that fear of a name is only fear of the thing itself. _

_I first encountered Dracula a year ago, after hearing rumors for years that he and his band of vampire thugs were terrorizing the frightened Muggles scattered across the Frontier. I set out to try to gain peace, and now I find myself fighting back my last tears as I write this strange letter. Near everyone I have ever loved is dead, the last thing I did before writing this letter was bury my wife and daughter after pounding stakes through their hearts. I know well what Dracula intends and I fear with humanity in such a hopeless state that we as a whole will be powerless to fight it. The vampires seek to feed their never ending lust for blood by enslaving all of humanity to get it. And how can humanity possibly fight? Spells are useless against most of the demons of the night, and few have weapons. Soon, the dawn of a bloody new age will break, an age ruled by vampires._

_I have done everything in my power to stop Dracula, and I guess that's why I am writing this letter. I have failed, and I know it, The Seers tell me that fate is certain to bring about a warrior, a chosen one born of Dracula's own lifeblood to defeat him. I have charmed this message solely for his eyes. Perhaps only a vampire or dhampir as they are calling the half blooded vampires can face Dracula. I know only of two possible weapons that might defeat the vampire leader. The first I am sure you have read about in the book your holding, the Deathly Hallows. The second is far more mysteries, and that is Horcruxes._

_Horcruxes are not as complex as you might think; a wizard can obtain immortality through them by severing their soul and containing it within a vessel or object. So long as that object remains whole than the wizard can survive death, although they would require a new body. But it seems as if Dracula is far wiser than my old enemy. I have no idea how many horcruxes he has, I have learned only of two. The first is a wooden goblet, the second merely a ragged old cloak. You can see the problem this causes, his horcruxes could be anything at all. Yet there is something far more terrible as well. I destroyed one of the horcruxes. I decimated the goblet before I shoved a stake into his heart…and Dracula only laughed as he stood there completely unfazed. He should have died a mortal death, the power of horcruxes grants only the soul immortality, not the body…yet there he stood. I fear with all my heart that Dracula had found a way to tamper with the spell to make himself, his body, truly incapable of destruction. _

_As for the Deathly Hallows, they maybe the last hope against battle with Dracula although I mastered them purely by chance. The Elder Wand I still have in my possession, and intend to be buried with it, if I get that honor that is. I hope legend will tell that I have broken it of it's power, but if Dracula kills me tonight than that is not so and the wand shall pass to him, in fact I fear that is his plan. The Resurrection Stone I lost long ago, in the forest outside of Hogwarts although no such place exists now. I have passed my Invisibility Cloak to my son, the only one who remains of my loved ones. Perhaps if just one of the Hallows can be found than one might have a chance against Dracula, the master of Death. _

_I don't even know if these words will help…if any eyes shall ever read them, or if I have said anything at all of help, but I have tried. _

_Yours in fellowship,_

_Harry Potter_

D raised his face from the frantic last words of the long dead wizard, his expression blank as always. He laid his left hand upon writing as he read it a second and third time, until at last a wizened voice spoke up. "So…were going after the Deathly Hallows then?"

"Don't be stupid." D answered shortly. "I intend to kill him with my own sword, not with legends of magic."

"Might be the fuck of a lot easier, but oh no…you never listen to your babbling hand."

"I am no wizard. If you're not going to say anything of interest then just shut up."

"Well what the hell do ya wanna hear?" the symboite grumbled, " The writing is clearly magic, and judging from the slant of the writing it was clearly written by a man in deep fear, could have been the ol' Boy Wizard, but I never met the guy, so I can't be sure."

"It seems his effort was wasted. Apart from the name of the vessels I have learned nothing I did not already know."

The hand moved convulsively as though it were trying to shrug, "Guess so. At least the kid tried."

His attention was pulled from the useless message when he caught sight of his mother's fitful stirring across the way; she struggled to pull herself into a sitting position beside her son. Her pain was glaringly obvious now, she looked positively corpse like, save for the fierce fire that remained burning in her eyes. D gently pushed her shoulder so that she lay back down on the ground beside him, "Don't move Mother, your very sick."

One final time his eyes glanced at the ancient story book, it appeared to have returned to normal and this time he found the sentence he'd been both seeking and dreading, _"….but she was distant as though separated from him by a veil, and she suffered."_

Mina attempted a brave smile, "I am sorry my son, I did not realize where we were when I asked you to stop." Her eyes crossed quickly across the calm little clearing they lay within. D knew well the words his mother were actually saying were _"I am sorry, it appears as though soon I am going to die in the very clearing where you first realized you were in love with your dead wife." _

He regarded his mother with a stony expression all the same. "How did you realize where we were?"

"She showed it to me of course, she told me all about it."

D made the utmost effort to hide the sadness that crossed his eyes, "The land beyond the veil is not much different from this one, is it?"

Mina nodded slowly, "It's almost the same, yet softer and kinder…it's like…well...I suppose it is heaven although I never thought my soul could pass through heavens gates." She hesitated a moment before speaking, "Luna is very kind, nurturing and beautiful, so like and unalike you. It's easy to see why you love her."

"Loved her." He corrected quietly. "She's been dead for over 2,000 years now. The world has moved on without her and so have I."

At this Mina pulled herself fully into a sitting position and glared at her impassive son, "How dare you say such a thing Dracula Murray!"

D's eyes flicked like steely embers although whether that was from rage or mere shock at hearing the name he'd denied for millennia was unclear. "I believe it was you who never told me to love another, that love was all an illusion."

Now it was Mina's face that contorted with hurt.

"You have no idea how much I wish I listened to those words, I listened to them for more than 9,000 years before I let my guard down. I assumed that he'd stopped looking for me, perhaps even forgotten you or I ever existed. As soon as I dared to believe that he took her, he took everything I ever cared for away from me and cursed me to this existence for the rest of his immortality. Don't tell me the words I've built my life around were lies, Mother."

She flinched, her sallow face paling even further with his icy words. "I am sorry D, but I was wrong. It was terrible of me to raise you thinking that way, I was…I was so vulnerable, and so betrayed after I left your father. I didn't understand…He hurt me worse than any woman can ever imagine. Yet even when the binds of my life were cast aside I saw that I indeed did still love him, despite his madness and his cruelty. Love still triumphed. In the end that's all that makes this life and the next worth living, makes it more than just an illusion. Love and to love."

D chose not to acknowledge these words however. "Why did father bring you back to life?"

Her lips trembled, "As much as he loved me still I fear he did not do it for himself."

"You're a trap set for me, I am quite aware of this. He would never just give you freely over to me, even if he thought it might grant him my mercy. The question is how do I spring this trap?" D mused aloud more to himself than anything else.

Mina shook her head, her gaze telling D clearly that she had no idea.

"You can recall nothing about coming back to life? No books, spells or objects of any kind?"

"No."

"And yet you seem to remember the land beyond the veil."

At this a helpless tear slipped down her cheeks, "It's not natural for the living mind to recall the splendors of what lies beyond this mortal coil. You see that I cannot bear this world; everything is so bright, harsh and cruel here. The wind in the trees is frightening, the way I see your face has changed pains me beyond words. I cannot bear this any longer nor can the body that I own."

"Is it your own?"

She shook her head, "I don't understand…I look, and I move as I did in life, yet I feel as if I am moving within a transparent vessel that is only housing me."

D nodded thoughtfully, carefully regarding her words. "I have seen the world that lies beyond this one as well. When in hibernation most of my kind will cast their consciousness into the simulated worlds that dwell within their coffins, yet I wanted only to see what lay beyond this land. To see you, and to see her again. But I don't recall any of it. Nothing more than a fragment within a dream that felt far too real, and leaves me in agony when I wake."

Mina nodded softly, "If you could recall what life was like the land beyond, than life here would truly be unbearable."

D shifted closer to her side and pulled her into his embrace, lightly stroking her hair. He could feel each bone within her arms and her rib cage, and the coolness of her skin was quite alarming. "Are you hungry Mother? I don't have any human food, but I could always find you something like I did when I was little."

"No…I can't possibly eat. Let's just let it happen, I won't be long now."

D knew well what she meant. "I have missed you. Every day of my life I have thought about you."

Mina smiled weakly and nodded her head, "I know. And I was with you every day. Always by you side, in your heart." She paused a moment, knowing her tormented son would have rather gone the rest of his immortality without hearing the next words. "And Luna is with you as well, even though you've blocked out her face."

D's body tensed, "I have not. I have searched for her guidance for years and heard nothing."

"Your heart must be open to receive her guidance D. She cannot speak to you when you cloud your senses with drugs and self damnation. You block out her love with your own hatred of yourself."

"No, your wrong." he replied steadily, "I don't hate nor love myself at all. I am nothing more than just a dhampir that's harder to kill than any other with a mission before I am ready to accept death. What I think of myself had no bearing onto the world."

"No...D..." Mina fought once more to protest him, moving forward to touch him, but she crumpled backward, clutching her chest as her heart clinched and pounded in protest of the work that it had to do. She screamed against the pain, although that did nothing to alleviate it. D rushed once more to her side, and laid his left palm against the hammering heart within her breast. Perhaps the symboite might have done something to soothe its rhythm, that was if the body that housed it not been so fragile and corrupted as whatever was housing Mina's soul.

"Remain still, Mother." he tried to soothe uselessly, but now she appeared to be seizing with pain that had flared through her chest, all of her limbs and her protesting organs. She coughed violently, bright blood staining her chin and the top of her snowy white gown. Tears of anguished and fright mingled with the sweat on her flushed cheeks.

"Help me D...oh God, please help me!" she screamed through her agony, and D understood the words quiet plainly.

He gently wrestled her to lay flat on the ground, and pulled free a slender dagger from his belt. "Goodbye!" she gasped.

"Goodbye Mother." D whispered as he drove the dagger into her breast, fighting the traitorous sob that threatened to overtake him.

Mina gave a single, rattling gasp before the light in her eyes faded quickly away as though it had never been, and she slumped limply in D's arms. Her hand has tighter lightly on his wrist as though in thanks of his before her eyes closed once more to the world, hopefully this time it would be forever.

Slowly D released her and laid her back onto the grass. His vision was clouded with a haze of blood that he tried furiously to blink back, yet the tears kept threatening their fall. He took the time to sooth back her sweat tangled hair and arrange her limbs so that it appeared as though she merely asleep.

Surely she'd been a trap laid for him, a terrible trick created by his father, another implement of torture. But why hadn't the trap sprung yet? D had been there, waiting calmly and almost patiently for his father to appear, for that illusion to shatter, yet here Mina lay as lifeless as she'd been for millennia. Why hadn't the trap sprung yet?

D leaned down and pressed one final kiss to his mothers forehead, than he twisted away with short pained cry as something bit into the side of his neck. His hands flew to the wound, finding its source immediately. He found that he was holding a syringe in his hands, one of the two that remained of his supply of self concocted destruction. He cast the needle aside and struggled to stand, to overcome the languor that was surging into his body. Already D's muscles were resisting him, but through willpower alone he managed to stand and pull free his sword.

There was no enemy to be found, there was nothing save for the birds that flitted uncaring though the sky and Mina's lifeless body.

But Mina's eyes were opened. Her hand had clearly moved from where D had lain it before, it was higher, high enough to have stabbed D as he leaned over her body.

"Mother…" he hissed through his teeth and forced his legs to move closer.

Mina rose from were she lay and pulled the dagger from her breast as though it were a mere splinter. Yet she wasn't Mina, his mothers face could never have twisted into such a cruel, insidious expression as it now wore. It looked for a moment as though her features were being violated before they changed completely. The pale face became rather dull in its appearance, her dark eyes became two lifeless, dark pools, her lips were marred by a distinctive cleft like scar. Now it was a half starved woman that wore Mina's bloodstained gowns, rather than the gleaming matron that should have been. The top of her gown exposed two poorly inked white roses across her breasts. The flawed girls face was positively gleaming with joy as she watched D succumb to his own drug, his sword slipped easily from his grasp when she carefully batted the blade away. His knees buckled and he sank almost too easily down onto the ground.

"Asenath?" he murmured, the word was neither disbelieving nor vengeful as he said it, merely a cool statement of fact.

"You had this coming for a while now D." she answered back, her voice as cold as the Hunter's as she watched him until his eyes were closed and he moved no more.


	6. Chapter 6: Forgiveness

**Pale**

**Chapter Six: Forgiving**

_Note: Okay, big big warning. This chapter and the one that will follow it will be graphic and gorey. Now I am not turning this into a slasher horror film or anything, I am just not going to shy from showing that Dracula can get even crueler than I've shown him before. Hell, I took a lot of inspiration for my version of him from both Vlad the Impaler and Alucard, that's one cruel baddie._

" _The history of the world, my pet, is learn forgiveness and try to forget." -Sweeney Todd, Final Scene_

"_Wherein even the crown prince of Hell come out of his arrogant shell would falter to better." - Swansong for a Raven, Cradle of Filth_

_

* * *

_

A week passed before D at last began to stir into consciousness. The first sensations to reach him through the confused haze of dreams was the cold hardness of were ever it was that his body lay. He forced his hand to move across the surface and found the texture was that of stone. Judging from the aches through out his back, neck and shoulders he must have been laying against this unyielding surface for quite some time. He tried to force his eyes open, but they refused to obey.

He could distinctly smell blood; some of it was fresh while the rest old and clotted, as well as the rotting of flesh, and the dampness that comes only from being far underground. He moved again, trying to feel about with his left hand but there was no sensation whatsoever. He heard the distinctive rattling of chains however.

A cruel, lilting voice reached his ears then, "Ah awake at last, now the real fun can begin Elena." A thin hand grabbed D up by the roots of his hair and yanked him into a sitting position.

D at last forced his eyes open yet he was hardly surprised to find that he was staring into gleaming blue eyes and a sharply featured face, a face so like his own, that could only have belonged to his father. Dracula smiled terribly, revealing his fanged teeth. "Surprised to see me, my beloved Dracula?"

"Of course not." he answered quite truthfully. A quick glance confirmed that he was indeed a prisoner within a torture chamber. Some of his father's victims lay as moldering skeletons within their chains, while others still oozed blood and struggled feebly. D himself was chained to the floor in irons that not even a struggling giant could have broken, his left hand was gone, only a neatly healed stump remained of where it had once been and he was naked. Still none of these things seemed to show any stress upon D's fierce features.

"Dracula?" rose a female voice from the shadows, its tone was thick with hatred. "So that's what the "D" stands for. I should have known." The woman stepped forth from the shadows, into the flickering torchlight. Hers was a truly beautiful form clothed in black leather biking gear. Her eyes were as fiery as her voice, and her brutally short blonde hair gave her a dangerously sensual appearance. Yet her face, a face rather typical for any young woman, was one that D could not have forgotten.

It was truly strange how in the vastness of time a man could forget the sensual features of his most beloved, could forget the tenderness and passion between them, but he could recall in exquisite detail the face of one whom he'd betrayed, of whom he'd killed. This was especially true to D at that moment.

"Elena?" he whispered, disbelief at last etching across his features.

Elena's face twisted at the sound of D's low voice, pain, sorrow and most especially hate crossed her face all at once. It was that latter emotion that won over.

"So, you do remember me then!" she spat. "I was so sure that you'd forgotten me, that I was just another faceless lamb for that slaughter!" Tears welled in the girls eyes. "You were supposed to save me D! That's what every girl is taught. Right when the night is darkest, when all hope is gone our knight in shining armor will appear to save us from the cold! Even I believed it! I thought you were going to save me, you were SUPPOSED to save me!"

A knife flashed in Elena's hands before it flew through the air and lodged into the center to D's chest.

The Hunter hissed with pain, but he did no cry out, "You choose your own path Elena, you desired to be a Nobel. What choice did I have?"

Dracula was positively twittering with laughter at this exchange. "Yes! Wonderful, wonderful! You see my beloved son; this is what payback feels like. This is karma. The last time that we saw each other, at least physically saw each other, I was terribly mortified in front of my own subjects. Imagine how terribly my respect and authority have suffered in these past few years after I, the Vampire King was ripped in half by a giant squid from outer space, meanwhile my own half blooded son goes on to defeat it within the same hour and become an iconic hero to the humans? Now humans don't fear the Nobility, they envy us! I have fallen completely from grace D, my right and ability as the Vampire King has never been questioned so much since the early days of the Nobility when I was near defeated by that meddling Boy Wizard. But I destroyed him, and today D, I am going to destroy you. Wizard kind quickly fell into ruins once I killed their hero, who's to say that humanity won't do the same?

I lured you into this trap using your own mother and I can assure you by the time I am ready to give you the mercy of the stake that I will have forced you to endure tortures from every man, woman and child that you've ever helped, killed or desired. I've chosen this lovely Elena to step up first, the poor girl has quite the pent up anger for you, and it's only fair. It's because of her soul that this convenient little connection has fallen into my grasp."

D made no attempt to understand what Dracula's words meant.

Her blue eyes aflame with rage Elena stepped closer to D and yanked the dagger out of his chest, "Don't understand what he means? Of course not, what comprehension would you, beautiful, unchanging and immortal have of death and what happens to the soul afterwards?" In a rather unprecedented move Elena stripped off her top, leaving her full breasts bare to D's uncaring line of sight. He recalled seeing the familiar line of scars that crossed her thin stomach, and he recalled the exquisite tattoo that the Nobility had once seared on her right breast. It was of a white rose, one terribly similar to another…

Elena, for lack of a better word, changed. Her features were erased completely as though they never where and Asenath had returned in her place, but her expression was every bit as dangerous. There it was again, the rose tattoo upon Asenath's chest, quite similar to the one that Elena had been marked with. "She's me." Asenath whispered low and dangerously. "Elena. I am her, reincarnated into another body. Our soul is the same, and twice you managed to betray it!" As swiftly as she'd left Elena reappeared.

Dracula grinned at the scene. "Nicely put Asenath. That is essentially what happens to the soul after death, reincarnation. But as I am sure you know well D, the fact that mortal life is reborn from death does not mean that the life that once was just fades away. In fact, it's rare that it does. The soul can progress, but the spirit, the consciousness that remains after death can linger lost and confused upon this Earth until there is no Earth left to tread on . And even the most noble sprit is powerless when it comes to resisting the orders of a living creature. Like myself." Dracula cackled.

D noticed that his father appeared to be clutching something very tightly in the palm of his left hand.

"That does not explain why Asenath can shift form." D spoke up calmly.

At that moment Elena lashed out with her booted feet and kicked D hard in the chin, however he barely felt the force of her blow and he remained rigid. "You have no right to ask such things! Why is he saying anything at all, Master! We ought to rip his tongue out!"

Dracula's eyes gleamed at the fiery woman at his side, "A lovely idea Elena. I enjoy your way of thinking, but we haven't even started. We still must hear him beg for mercy, again and again. Then his tongue is yours."

"Then let's get started!"

"Of course. How do you want to begin, my dear? Blades, drowning, hot skewers, wooden needles, garlic, acid that can ruin the flesh of even our kind? Mind you we'll need to be especially careful of those last two."

"Blades." Elena seethed, and held the dagger she'd pulled from D's flesh up once again, making certain he caught sight of the bloodstained blade before she slammed it down into his abdomen, ripping brutally into the residual organs that dwelled there. D cried out.

* * *

"_I am sorry." the simple biker girl apologized in a low voice. Her eyes were invested in a dangerous determination. "The princess showed me the way- how the Nobility live, how they think. I want this manor and its traps and treasures for myself. And for the rest of their lives I wanna terrorize all those bastards in the village that treated me like shit. I wanna be a Nobel."_

**_She has no idea what she's saying…_**_D's thoughts raced momentarily. **She can't understand that blackness she's condemning herself to. She's alone, she's afraid and angry. She can't understand. **"Do you really mean that?" asked D. Bloody foam spilled from the corner of his lips. The wound she'd been forced to deal to his midsection was agonizing._

"_Yes. See for yourself."_

_Taking her hand off the enchanted blade, Elena undid the front of her top. Her breast had no rose emblem on it. It seemed the Princess of the Diane Rose could reverse her own curses. **Then she does mean those words. She means to become a Nobel.**_

"_Right after we got here the Princess took it away. Now I'm the very same Elena you met when you first got here. But you're in my way D." Elena said, almost seeming to shout the words as she took a few steps away._

_At last D found the strength to push away the Princess' corpse. She'd been clinging to him so tightly in the throes of death, as though he represented the last glory of the Nobility. Both her body and the sword that had killed her fell over, and behind them stood D. A slight wind picked up across the court yard whipping back his ebon hair. Suddenly the Hunter seemed a terrible image, a far cry from the gorgeous youth the sun had once shown down upon and haloed like an angel. His eyes were two cold wells of blackness, the features of his face unyielding as stone, his expression utterly rigid._

_He knew what had to be done. She'd been seduced by the Nobility. There was no turning back again. "You said you wanted to be a Nobel, didn't you?"_

_D approached the girl slowly, she skittered away from him, her face suddenly went pale and wide eyed with fear. It had to be done. Elena desperately searched the gorgeous, unworldly visage before her, the face that she'd dreamed and longed for so fiercely, the face she'd fallen in love with. There was nothing there. Not anger, not hesitation, not mercy or pity._

"_That's was just…Spare me D!"_

_Elena saw the flash of light of D's sword as it sank into her chest. At least it was quick, the pain was only a momentary rupture of agony before she felt the strength ebb from all her form, but she did not dare look up at D's face as her life ended. In the end she wasn't even worth pity, even worth saving to the man she'd loved._

_Sheathing his sword D looked around the courtyard._

"_So she wanted to be a Nobel?" a hoarse voice said._

**_It had to be done. There was no saving her._**

_Without so much as a glance at the two corpses, D began to walk toward the front gate in a horribly weary way. A tiny object fell at his feet. A withered rosebud._

_Now deprived of their mistress, the flowers dropped their heads as if to respectfully mark her passing, their colors fading before they fell to the ground. After D walked away, countless dead blossoms rained down on the body of Elena and the ashes that remained of the princess, burying them both._

_

* * *

_

D did not cry out for mercy even as the girl, once a simple village biker turned into a brutal torturer, even as his insides lay strewn out into front of him, or even when she bathed his already mutilated left arm in acid that could mar even the flesh of the Nobility. He cried out, yes, but never for the mercy she'd once begged of him.

Elena's eyes were now glowing with blood light as she again raised her knife and ran the tip of it's blade across the base of D's left ear. It seemed as if Dracula had indeed granted her what D had fought to prevent.

"You know something D?" her husky voice whispered almost lovingly, "I pity you. I still recall the last moments of my life and the expression on your face. So dead. So empty. So detached. Your soul is nothing more than a gaping black hole, sucking in all the hope, happiness and beauty that surrounds you. Your heart doesn't beat for anyone but yourself. You feel nothing. Not love, or hate. You've been alive for so long, and seen so much that nothing at all is worth the effort of caring, or loving or hating. Or saving. You didn't pause for a second and try to help me." She pulled the knife across the ear, cleaning slicing it off.

D groaned out in pain, writhed in his chains yet his eyes turned and regarded the face of his torturer. Elena gasped as she caught sight of his eyes. Her mind was pulled backward, to when she'd been alive, to a moment when she'd caught eyes with D. Once again she felt as though she were sinking into the sheer depth of those black pools, and instantly she felt the wild anger die away within the heart she was sharing with her vessel. "Elena." D spoke his voice was unaffected by the pain he must have been drowning in. "I am sorry. I did as I had been trained to do; I knew I couldn't save you. It's never easy for me to take a life, any life. Especially an innocent one. Could you forgive me?"

Shocked Elena doubled back, lowering her knife. "What?"

"What!" Dracula growled, "What game are you playing at D? There is no asking for forgiveness for those you've thoughtlessly killed! No forgiveness from the dead! Go on Elena!"

But the girl found that she could not raise the knife again. Could it be that those were the only words she needed to hear? No…it couldn't possibly be as simple as all that. Yet she could not take her eyes from D's, was it possible…could she really be seeing that flash of remorse within those black orbs?

"Elena!" Dracula roared.

"I…I can't!" she whimpered.

"God damn it!" Dracula's left hand clinched tightly upon whatever it was he was holding within his palm, his fingers appeared to move the object about and in a smooth, effortless transformation Elena was gone only to be replaced by the features of another. It was a man that appeared before D this time, a tall, well muscled man wearing the black leathers typical of a Hunter with fair hair and intense blue eyes. In his hand he carried a brutal weapon, a hexagonal staff in which each in end was shaped to dangerous points.

The man blinked, utterly bewildered to be within this place, he appeared unsteady on his feet.

D recognized him instantly.

"It's a curious ability that dear Asenath has, one I am not fully sure how it occurs, but nevertheless I have perfected it. She lives and she breathes just as you and I, she even has her own unique soul like us all…but she is hollow. It's as if she is a living, walking and hollow medium for the dead. Not only is she especially skilled at talking with the spirits of the dead, but she can allow them in her heart, she can take on their physical form and any harm that befalls that form does not affect her body at all. Legend calls them The Pale Ones. The daughter of the thirteenth child of a gifted medium able to assume the forms of the pale, lost sprits of the dead. They are especially rare as you might guess, and terribly feared. When I found her she was able only to hold the transformation for a minute or so and resistant to the Dark Kiss , but a simple bite upon the neck and an infusion of my blood has corrected that."

Dracula turned his attention to the confused looking Hunter at his side, "You, what's your name?"

"N…Nolt." said the man sounding unsure of himself.

He gestured to the bloody mess that was D. 'And him, you know him do you not?"

A cruel smile twisted Nolt's thin lips, "Yes, I know him. That's the man who killed me."

"Well then, go on. Now is your chance for payback."

Nolt didn't hesitate for a moment before he raised his brutal staff with a roar.

* * *

For twelve hours the torment lasted, until at last Dracula appeared to have grown weary of seeing D suffering beneath the hands of his enraged victims and returned what parts had been severed from his body, save for of course his left hand. Once whole D's body instantly began to repair itself, and Dracula turned from the scene without a word. He needed him whole to tear him apart once again.

He grabbed the Pale One's arm roughly, currently wearing the guise of a hulking Nobel man. "Enough for tonight, now, wear her face."

The Nobel hung his head in a servile way and began to transform. D was hardly surprised when he saw his mother standing in his place, her hair hung low over her face, shielding her from the sight of her son. Dracula grinned lecherously as he lifted Mina's chin to face him, and he kissed her possessively. "Let's go my love."

She followed obediently, but she dared to turn back to glance at D. He did not fear to look in her eyes. _I am so sorry my dear…I really didn't know, _still, even all these millennia later he could read her as easily as the books he had treasured in his youth.

"I forgive you." he whispered and closed his eyes. Now his throbbing body had no trouble finding sleep, but all the same he recalled what it had been like to have lain for one night within his mother's arms, safe and complete and he found peace instantly.

* * *

When D awoke, his body healed as if he'd never before suffered any sort of burn, blow, cut or stab. It was to the sound of his chains rattling, but not by his movements. His attention snapped up to that of a thin girl, with long black hair and wide green eyes. She wore a white gown that was more like a death shroud than anything else and she had a simple white flower tucked in her hair. She was struggling hard to rip free the chains that bound D to the wall, gritting her fanged teeth together in frustration, but of course the chains would not give. A surge of hope flooded his being as he recognized her face, so sweet and innocent, so full of life and intelligence.

"Lina?"

She released the chains to stop and to gaze at him deeply. "D." she said simply, the single syllable was enough to convey the depth of love and affection she had for him. "Quickly, I have to get you out of here. Dracula doesn't know that I am using the Pale One's body."

He knew his effort was wasted, yet he pulled on the chains with all the strength he could muster. Cracks crawled up the damp stone wall, but the padlocks did not give a centimeter. "How much control does he have over the Pale One?"

"Absolute." Lina conformed in a grim tone. "He made her like himself, made her his slave. And if Asenath is his slave than so is everyone that uses her body." she revived her effort to pull free his chains, relying on the strength of the Nobel genetics Dracula has tainted her with. She made it a point not to look directly at D's face, even if time has made it's mark upon it , it was still so magnificent the girl doubted that she could resist falling onto his lips.

"And what is he using to call all these ghosts from the past?"

"A stone…I think I have read about it before, in a wizard's book or something alone those lines. A stone that was supposedly created by Death himself. He's linked it to Asenath's consciousness and it just maybe that Dracula does know every single person you've lost or slayed in your life."

"The Resurrection Stone." D murmured. "I should have known. Does he hold any other of the Hallows?"

Lina nodded, "The Elder Wand. That's how he linked the stone with Asenath, although he doesn't appear to like toying with magic very much."

"Damn it." D hissed rather uncharacteristically. Again Lina tugged furiously at the unyielding chains, but her eyes fell to D's face once again and the heart that she was merely borrowing hammered wildly in her breast, she found herself unable to move.

The girl shrieked when a ragged pair of hands clapped down on her shoulders and spun her round, the gangly, cloaked figure with the wild shock of matted ginger hair was recognizable instantly as Renfield. He grinned wickedly, flashing his fangs, 'Well well pretty dear, starting the fun with the Masters dog a bit early are we?"

"Let me go!" Lina raged, shoving Renfield away easily. "This ends here!" Renfield stumbled backward, tripping over the hem of his cloak in a most ungraceful way.

"Oh you'll pay for that you little bitch." he growled in a guttural tone, pushing aside the amble folds of his garment.

D stared at the scene suddenly transfixed. There it was. That familiar pulsating, black miasma that he'd been seeking for so long, it was coming off Renfield, off the ragged brown cloak he wore about his shoulders. A vessel. A horcrux. D's mind raced in agitation…_yes…yes of course that cloak could have easily been a vessel!_ It was inconspicuous, entrusted to the hands of Dracula's most faithful servant and hadn't the ancient message from the wizards mentioned the possibility of a cloak being a vessel? He must have overlooked the cloaks aura in his exhaustion upon first meeting Renfield in the guise of R.M. Perhaps Harry Potter's message had not been in vain.

_If only it weren't for these chains! _Growling deep in his throat D pulled against them once more, his arms quaking with the strain.

From the blackness a million blood red eyes appeared to take form, glowing wickedly about the whole of the dungeon. Lina screamed out in alarm, but she clinched her fists as though ready to take on this stranger still opponent. Renfield gave a started cry and then fell to the ground, bowing low on all fours. "Master!!"

The mass of eyes clumped closer and closer together until they converged into a single, blazing silhouette that was easily recognizably with its black garments and sleek hair. Dracula's face appeared through the crimson haze and as he smiled it was truly a frightening scene; his mouth appeared to be crammed full of needle sharp fangs rather than just the fanged canines that were trademark of a vampire. As he swept his cape backward the rest of the crimson light faded away and he moved slowly over toward Lina, the devilish grin never leaving his face. "Asenath…I know you can hear me beneath that guise. And I am starting to worry that you might not have what it takes to do what must be done. You told me that you wanted to make the Vampire Hunter suffer, and here you go allowing this little failure of mine to help him!"

His eyes bored hard into Lina's, her expression of defiance never faltered. "You, what is your name again?"

"Lina Belan." she answered.

Dracula nodded, "Ah yes, the children from Tepes. More dire failures!"

Lina trembled with anger, "I don't understand! How I am I any different from him!" she cast her eyes quickly at D. "What did you want of me, of the others!"

Dracula sighed, "It's simple really. You crave blood, just as all the others. You would kill for it, just as myself. I cannot have that weakness, that addiction in my creations. I had only one success."

Lina lowered her eyes trying to hide the tears that betrayed her. She tried in vain to hide the battle within her that raged between the burning desire and her jealous envy of the Hunter.

"Oh yes, D does need the blood, and he even craves it, but in him I have instilled a defense that no other Nobel has. The power to simply resist. It was my intention that if I could breed one perfect success, a vampire unlike any other, that could resist the blood lust for far longer than any other, that found it within his power to subsist on blood substitutes alone. From there I would create others, generation upon generation of the ultimate vampire that within a few generations the lust for blood would be forgotten all together. And I would have succeeded had his mother not taken him from me and instilled the twisted mess that is the world into his head. The Nobility had been slowly falling into decline years before D was born, I had hoped that he would deliver us to the next golden age of the vampire…rather he hunted us down. Once the Nobility began to be overthrown by the humans I lost the formula I'd so painstakingly devised for creating another, and I have been trying again and again to create another. D is nothing to me now. He's no more than a ghost from the past I must expel, I have made others. Now come here Lina."

With that simple command Lina was pulled as though by an invisible force toward Dracula, she cried out as he grasped her but he held her fast. "The body you possess is under my complete control child. You'll believe me soon." he thrust a large dagger into her hands and released her. "I want you to go over to D, and take his right hand into yours. And, then you're going to cut off every last one of his fingers. Go!"

Lina gasped out in horror at his words, and then cried out in feeble protest as she found that her body did not dare to obey her command to stand still. It has already begun to walk, to sink down beside D. She reached out for his hand with utter despair on her face. D naturally was faster than her, and he raised the hand to strike the girl away from him. Then it seemed as if all the force of gravity was pressing against him, freezing his arm in midair, crushing his body against an invisible brick wall of pressure. It took all his strength merely to move his eyes, and see that his father had indeed been the source of crushing gravity. Dracula was holding a jagged, jet black stick in his hand, a wand.

Lina's dagger came flying upward and both cried out as there was a gush of blood as D's forefinger thudded onto the ground. "D!" she cried out in helpless protest as she raised the gore soaked knife once again.

"Lina, just fight it." he breathed out, "I know you can." However the girl couldn't so much as command her hand to tremble as the knife claimed another digit.

Dracula hovered closer to the pair, laughter rumbling in his chest, " I promised you D, every one you've ever killed or saved, everyone you've ever encountered and left in agony or tears will have there chance to destroy you, weather they want to or not."

The pain was like an immense serpent, twisting its fiery form all throughout D's body. Yet it wasn't completely unbearable. There was nothing at all wrong with a dhampir's ability to writhe in agony, yet D found that it was easy to push the blunt of it aside. He felt the fresh misery as the knife came again, he cried out merely to release the worst of the mounting pain within him but his consciousness could still linger to a place where he remained calm and centered.

There were always ways to speak to the dead, yet D had never dreamed that he might one day have the chance to speak to Lina once again. There had been much he'd admired about the girl and her firecracker sprit. Her intelligence, her insistence, even her constant presence he'd grown fond of in his brief stay at her village.

As if it had all happened the day before he drifted back to the time when she'd filled his life with her beaming smile. He recalled the single white flower he'd left her at the waterwheel, a simple token of his growing affection for the girl he denied until she had died in his arms. There had been several moments in the time he'd known her where he'd found himself wanting to show a truer sign of his affection, but only his simple touch of her hand at her death would have to suffice. Perhaps his fondness of her had been because of the curse his father had laid upon her life, perhaps something more passionate, but whatever the case he'd wished that he'd had the chance to lay a kiss upon her lips before they fell to dust.

It wasn't fresh pain that brought D back into awareness, it was a realization. He gazed up at Lina's eyes, at the well of sorrow and heartbreak that resided within them. Perhaps that was why Lina was here now; she'd died helpless and broken hearted…perhaps there was a way to make amends.

Only his thumb remained as Lina raised the knife again, but D reached up with the stump of his left arm to pull her closer to him, to his lips and he kissed them without reservation. With the tenderness and the fondness that he'd felt for her so long ago.

Lina gasped, pulling away from him. She blinked bemusedly, and then, fighting her fingers ever inch of the way, the knife slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground. "D…" she breathed, reaching out to caress his cheek. "I love you D!"

"What!" Dracula raged, he drew a jeweled sword from his belt.

By the time he'd run her through Lina had all but faded, leaving only Asenath's shocked face in her wake. "What the HELL just happened!"

"I…I don't know!" Asenath breathed, pulling the sword from her belly effortlessly. "She just left me."

Snarling Dracula pressed the sword to D's throat, "Think you can get cleaver with me? We'll see. I doubt you can dismiss this one with just a simple kiss." His hand clinched.

Another woman was crouched at D's side, one with silky raven colored hair much like Lina's yet the curve of her bosom and hips coupled with the darkness of her eyes was almost hypnotically sensual although her face was that of an innocent girl. Doris Lang.

"Miss Lang, you have no choice but to obey me. You shall only touch my son in the way I so instruct. I want you to take the knife you have at your feet and I want to you stab him with it 19 times in the chest, but leave the heart alone."

"What…No!" the girl cried, her face hopelessly bewildered, but like Lina her hands were moving to Dracula's whim.

Doris Lang. Another girl…no, a woman whom he'd felt a fierce appreciation of. And his affection for her he'd not hidden. Twice he'd kissed her. The first had been when she'd tried to give him his payment in advance, and the second time after he'd taken that payment. Her payment had been her virginity. It was only natural that the girl had fallen in love with him; he'd rescued her in her darkest hour.

A violent sob escaped her lips as she pushed the knife ruthlessly down into the center of his chest, but D did not so much as flinch. Already he had a plan, yet he was loathe to cast aside his steely façade once again. Still the prospect of besting his father once more, of giving poor brave Doris the closure she needed was more tempting.

'Doris, I wanted to stay with you and with Dan. I was tempted to hang my sword and to settle. I have dreaded every battle I have ever fought, but I know you see why I couldn't give it up. I have spent my life trying to rid the world of him, but I never forgot you. I watched your wedding, I once met the son you named after your brother, I saw the entire village turn out for your funeral. Had I stayed you would have had none of those things. He would have destroyed each of them."

She withdrew the knife, her tears now of bittersweet understanding and once again it clattered to the ground.

A growl of rage passed Dracula's cruel mouth.


	7. Interlude Part Eight: Deus Ex Machina

**Pale**

**Interlude Part Eight: Deus Ex Machina**

_Note: Okay, my previous gore warning once more. This might be a great chapter…or it might not be, I've kind of gone back on my own word...and I haven't. And I have taken a few unexpected turns for the story, tested D's character in ways I did not originally plan…but at long last I have figured out how I want to end this story. So far this one has been the biggest challenge to write, much of it was unplanned. But now I think I have it, and just hope that my readers like this and the future of this story. *nervous!*_

"_Deus ex machina", literally god from the machine, is an ironic plot device in which a surprising or unexpected event occurs in a stories plot, suddenly and completely resolving an otherwise unsolvable conflict."- Wikipedia_

"_I am dead, but I am also here." - Beginning of the End, Lost. _

* * *

Another twelve hours of anguish passed, yet with most of the tortures D's plan of forgiveness and closure worked seamlessly, but his enemies were not so easy to appease, and he suffered for their hatred. By the end he'd again suffered the loss of every limb, bleed to the point of unconsciousness, been burned and branded over much of his skin.

Once the twelfth hour struck and smell of the swiftly approaching dawn began to creep through the tiny chinks in the brickwork Dracula rose from where he'd been seating to wallow in his sons agony and called off the torment that a peasant child had been unwillingly inflecting. Dracula's face was now quite devoid of victory as he returned D's severed limbs for the night but his dour expression suddenly shifted when he turned away and grasped Asenath's hand quite suddenly, shoving something gleaming onto one of her fingers.

"Enough of this." Dracula commanded sharply gazing raptly over at D, "I suppose that your think yourself clever don't you D? You couldn't be more wrong. I created you, I've watched you and followed you your whole life, and I can destroy you. I wanted to take this slowly, save the fire works for the end, but you've gone and forced my hand. Let's see just how easily you can dismiss this ghost." This time Dracula did not squeeze the Resurrection stone, rather he held it out before D. It was a miniscule little relic, a cracked obsidian set within an ancient, ugly golden ring. He pressed this ring into D's remaining hand, "This time you're going to call her to you."

Asenath, that now was only herself lowered her head in submission, awaiting the next transformation to overtake her hollow form. "You remember her don't you my son? The one you miss the most, more than your own mother? Don't tell me you don't remember her green eyes, her silky hair, the way she kissed you and held you?"

"No" D groaned, fighting away they image of her face, suddenly so vivid and full of life against his eyes.

"Don't fight it, D." Dracula sneered softly as he pressed the ring even closer to D's palm and turned it thrice. "You've spent so long trying to remember her, you've drugged yourself just to recall her face, why deny that face now? Remember, and she's all yours for eternity. I took her from you, but I can bring her back again. I keep my promises D."

He shook his head. Now a thousand memories, a million sensations that had been lost before this moment came deluging over him, he could almost feel her embrace. Perhaps his mother's words had been right, perhaps the ones you loved never left you at all, and they remained forever at your side, just beyond your perception. But now he was aware, Luna was indeed at his side, within his mind, filling him with her defiance. But soon her memory would be twisted and corrupted, forced into a vessel unwilling to hold her, her spirit forced to do terrible acts against him.

But nothing happened.

Asenath blinked in confusion, her hollow form remained unchanged by the spirit that should have entered it. Dracula glared at the Pale One, "What the hell are you waiting for? Change!"

The Pale One shook her head, "I…I can't...she's not here!"

"What do you mean?" the Sacred Ancestor demanded, "You're wearing her ring, and he has the stone. I've done every possible thing to spark forth her memory, the Nymph whore is here, change goddamn it!"

She screwed her face into a wince but nothing occurred, "She….she's just not here! I don't feel a presence in my heart. I see an image from this ring, but that's not enough for me keep her presence for more than few seconds or so. I am sorry, my Lord!"

"That's bullshit." Dracula cried, the crimson flaring once again in his eyes. "So long as something of her mortal image remains on his Earth than that bitch should be here! The memory of her alone ought to be enough for the Resurrection Stone to work, and that ring should insure that it does. I personally saw that her spirit cannot rest, not after what I did to the little whore. She'll haunt this Earth until it crumbles beneath her, so don't lie to me Asenath!" his last words were a thunderous roar.

It was D that spoke next, his words calm and collected as though he were completely removed from all pain. "You're wrong."

Dracula whirled about to face his son, his face a mask of demonic fury, "What?"

"A bit of wisdom that I learned from Alhazred, Cthulhu's most devoted servant. Ghosts repeat their actions because they cannot grasp what it is that ties them to the Earthly plane, and cannot properly rest because of it. But more often than not it's matters of the heart that binds the spirit to the Earthly plain. If that's the case than all one needs to do is to have the sprit recall the name of who they most loved in life, and that shall free them. Luna is free; I released her from myself and from the binds of the Earth over two thousand years ago. Cthulhu tried to use her spirit in that way, and after I slew him I knew it would only be a matter of time before you tried to corrupt her spirit in the same way"

Now Dracula was glaring down at D with a malevolence that was so potent Asenath had to tear her eyes from him as pain pieced her retinas.

"You wouldn't dare…" he hissed lowly even as acceptance began to wash over him. For millennia he'd devised this torture, patiently awaited to find the Pale One, only to realize that D had bested him once again, had been prepared for such an event all along. "You would dare to sacrifice the one glimpse that remains of her dear Nymph just to best me?"

"There isn't anything that I wouldn't give just to see you fall." the Hunter replied, gazing coolly up at the livid demon before him.

For a moment bitter acceptance crossed Dracula's contorted face until a maniacal screaming laughter welled from his mouth, rimmed with small needle like fangs. "Anything? Anything at all D, very well!" He turned his back to D and barked out a command, "Renfield! Asenath! Release him from the wall, but don't take off his chains. Hold him still!" His servants scrambled to obey while Dracula disappeared into one of the many shadows of the dungeon and reappeared a moment later, a foot thick taper of sharpened wood was clinched in his hands as though it weighed nothing at all.

Renfield twittered with slight laughter, hardly able to contain himself. Asenath appeared to have no true idea what was happening but fear was rampant in her dull face, while D's body appeared to grow rigid at the sight of the immense stake but he did not fight his captors. Dracula lowered the stake slightly, angled it downward and brilliant, maniacal hated twisted his features as he gave a roar and rushed forward. The stake rammed almost to easily into D's body, tearing apart his abdomen yet Dracula has thrust at an upward angle, forcing the thick pole of wood to rend upward though D's midsection and chest and to burst outward just below his right shoulder blade with horrific gush of blood.

For a second D howled with the crushing pain of it, dark colored blood spurted from his mouth, his knees buckled and he would have fallen had a laughing Renfield and a shocked beyond expression Asenath not being holding his chains upward. The wood throbbed like a streak of fire embedded with his body, the organs decimated by its pathway protested even worse.

With a sickly smile Dracula laid his hand upon the stake and moved toward D, pausing once he stood close enough to have embraced him. "You have your mothers' eyes." he commented hauntingly.

In a pale blur Dracula's his clawed fingers shot forward and plunged into D's left eye. This time D shrieked out in pain, it was agony almost as vivid as being poisoned by manticore venom, as crippling as the pain of losing the ones he most loved. In his immortality he'd suffered just about every wound, in the last 48 hours bore though every sadistic torture his father could imagine but until now none of them he'd suffered directly by Dracula's bare hand. Death was simple, a momentary agony before darkness. Pain was simple, something that D could merely push aside and step back into the battle but the damage he was suffering at his fathers own hand was not simple. It was as if Dracula were savoring every terribly moment of watching his son writhe about, and was making sure that D was wholly experiencing the power of his weaponless hand. With crushing vividness D felt his fathers claws grope within the socket and grasp the eyeball, he felt the fiery snap all the way to his brain as he ripped the retina and then the distressing blackness that crashed down forever on half of his vision.

Before the blood veiled the rest of his sight D saw his father triumphant expression and the bloody orb of his eye clinched within his claws. Amidst his own cries, and Asenath's shrill screams he heard Dracula's manic laughter once again. His fanged maw opened wide and then closed downs upon the horrific orb, and a terrible whitish fluid dripped down past his lips and then he swallowed.

Any hope of regenerating his lost eye was gone now; vampires and dhampir's could instantly regenerate parts of their bodies that were lost so long as the part missing was attached and not completely destroyed.

Dracula gripped his son's bloodied face and leaned forward. His tongue, long and serpent like snaked past his lips and licked the generous flow of blood that streamed down D's face, 'Your pain, your blood is my life force D, don't forget that with what little time I have left for you."

Whether D heard his fathers taunt was unclear, as he'd slumped against the thick pole and would have fallen had it not been for Dracula's slaves, his remaining eye was shut. It seemed at last the hours he'd known of misery had caught up with him. The shock of losing his eye coupled with impalement had proved too much even for the hardened Hunter.

Dracula moved as though disgusted from his son's body and glared at Asenath who was trembling and sobbing hoarsely

.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" he hissed, "This man used you and threw you away, you told me that you wanted to see him suffer for it!"

"No…I never meant…oh God!" Asenath wailed, clearly in pain as she chocked on her words.

"I want you and Renfield to go and put him in the courtyard with all of the others. He will remain there for one week, and that entire week I want you to stand guard over him. You will leave only to hunt and to sleep, is this in any way unclear?"

"No…I will my Lord." she whimpered, unable to disobey.

Dracula swept from the room without a glance as his son, or his servants. He did not dare suspect that once again he'd set the stage for his defeat once more, not once, but twice during the horrific exchange between them. The first mistake was this, his failure to notice that the Resurrection Stone was still loosely clutched in his unconscious son's hand.

* * *

Asenath sobbed violently as she looked up at D's limp and bloodied form, hardly recognizable as the man she'd so fervently desired, the man she could have sworn she loved. Was it truly possible for this Hunter to have touched her soul, however cruelly, not once, but twice? Why had she known this helpless desire twice? Was it truly possible that she'd been the one reasonable for his current helpless and mutilated state? It seemed the blame lay wholly with her, it had been her that agreed to help Dracula after D had scorned her, it has been her who did not resist Dracula's tainted blood that destroyed the rare immunity she'd had to the Nobel Kiss and it had been her that led D into this terrible trap.

And now here he hung; a pathetic corpse like heap upon a stake. He wasn't the only one hanging impaled within Dracula's courtyard; the area was littered with hundreds of victum hung stakes. Some where skeletons with thin rags clinging to their bones, others fresh and other still alive amid the stench of death. Each one was impaled in ways and positions that seemed terribly cruel and impossible to Asenath's eyes. Yet her Master had an eternity to perfect this terrible art.

Did her Master truly expect her to watch this? Asenath could not even think of suffering through another minute of this, and it was then her features changed to the steely, sensual ones of Elena.

She shook her head hard and glared at D's corpse like form, "It doesn't matter if you ask for forgiveness D, you deserved this" she hissed. "You still killed me when I deserved life. I cannot forgive you….especially not when you where apologizing merely to spare your own empty life."

She moved forward, glaring hard…and yet sadly up at D.

Than it was as if something were in Elena's way, something that caused her muscles to lock in place and refuse to move at all. For a moment she panicked until a white glow of light flooded her sight, blinding her utterly before it swept over all of her senses. The body she shared with the Pale One gave a momentarily resistance to the haze of light the flooded it from within, but it was a futile resistance. Elena was swept from the surface; Asenath was powerless to fight the spirit that demanded its way inside and once more change swept over the Pale One.

* * *

_The lines had long since blurred, now she was so far from them that they hardly seemed like boundaries at all. They were merely distant rules that once she'd been forced to live by, rules such as the dead and the living could not permanently cross worlds, that the division between the two was so solid that any that dare question it would be thrown into utter oblivion. But she did not live now; she was unsure just what type existence she clung to now. She had form but form she could change at will, she walked on mortal feet, yet could also fly though the skies that she could change the appearance of at her own will. She was not bound here, she could return to where the living dwelled and walk amongst them, pale and feared. It seemed like that crossing into the other world was much smoother as of recently, but it was rare she chose to walk in the world beyond._

_She did not breathe; she did not have need for food, sleep and drink. It seemed everything lived here, every plant, flower, tree, and loved one she'd ever held dear in the world beyond and therefore she could touch them….but there had been one, one who did not belong yet had remained here for a time anyway, one she could not truly touch and the one person she longed to the most. The time he'd lingered here had turned her veritable heaven into a hell filled with her own longing. _

_When she thought hard enough his memory would come surging back into her mind, as vivid as though all of it had just happened. But it was not the passionate desire of their time together that stood out the most, it had been the final moments of her life. It had been the most agonizing feeling imaginable after the blackness of death has fallen over her eyes, and yet somehow she remained conscious of the image of D holding her body and she heard the terrifying sound of him sobbing, pleading with her to live once again. She tried desperately to project her spirit back down into her body, to somehow comfort him but it simply was not possible, never again could she comfort the man she loved. _

_Hours passed before her spirit finally understood that it had best move onward rather than be hung forever here to relive this terrible moment. By that time D had slumped over unconsciously on her body perhaps from sheer exhaustion, and she'd whispered soft words into his ear although she knew he would never possibly hear them, "This ends nothing, D. I'll never leave you so long as you have need of me, I will return to you." She moved on from that moment, torn, incomplete. _

_She'd never dreamed that it that he would return to her, in the only form his could take, alive, and thus unable to truly remain at her side, but for a short while it had been enough. _

_The slight sensation shared between them as their hands clasped was enough. Heaven had been a term to describe a paradise that did not exist. The Otherworld was indeed a peaceful haven for the dead, but it could be especially trying at first, but D had been at her side to experience all the joy, enlightenment, disappointment and frustration with her. The part of her that had felt torn and empty at her death was appeased. There was no way to know how much time has passed on Earth but to Luna it seemed as though a few short years had passed at his side. Yet it had all seemed so expected the day D, his form far too vivid and rigid to be that of any other that dwelled her, had taken her ghostly hand and lead her under the canopy of a vast willow tree. Many spirits chose to reside within houses like they did in life, but many others, their fears and reservations cast aside, chose to take up home wholly within nature. This has been where D and Luna had taken up as a home, along with their two cats from life, Luna's kind grandmother that had been murdered when Luna was only a child, and of course Mina Murray, D's mother._

"_I think I' am going to be leaving soon." he said calmly._

_Luna lowered her eyes, somehow those words seemed so shocking and so expected. "You're sure?"_

"Yes_. There are moments when I know that all of this is only a dream I have been allowed to witness, that I am only sleeping and awaiting the right time to rise again. Those moments are growing closer and closer together. I am going to wake up soon." _

_Lowering her eyes, as though she had the capability to cry in this form she answered him, "Okay. You should go then, you have work to do. But when you wake up you won't remember any of this, anything at all." _

_This information seemed to startle him slightly, but soon enough his face regained his composure, "I doubt that. There is no force strong enough to make me want to forget any of this."_

_Yet that was simply one of the rules, one of the boundaries that could not be broken, the living must have no memory of the dead. She did not dare tell D this. "I won't leave ever leave you D, I'll always be there for you just the way you where here for me. All you need to do is find me." She knew he would not remember this promise, yet she spoke it all the same. _

_He kissed her then, as usual there was little sensation within the brief kiss yet its meaning was all the same. The next morning D had gone from the land of the dead, and for a crushing few moments that hollowness had returned to her form, the feeling of separation she'd known at her death, it was ape sided only by walking once more on the Earth…but it was temporary. A few days later warmth had surged into her pale form, as though something she'd lost had suddenly found her. A dream like memory had returned with it…one of somehow speaking to D once again, of touching him, of showing him something she herself did not understand. But from that moment on she had little need to return to the Earthly plain._

_And now….the lines had blurred. There was no Otherworld. No boundaries…there wasn't even light. Whatever form she was standing in was protesting the fact that she was not breathing…she had to force her lungs to move in a way that seemed utterly strange and unnatural to her now. There was only darkness…and blood. Luna swayed on her unsteady feet as she fought back the urge to scream out against the assaulting vertigo. How could she be here…in this place full of blood, corpses and decay? What was that awful throbbing in her chest? _

_Her eyes landed upon the corpse that hung before her. Although covered in blood and lacerations and with a limp look of defeat about it closer inspection revealed that it wasn't a corpse at all. He still breathed. The blood soaked mess that was his right hand held something loosely within it, a small jet black object. The vertigo ceased. That had been the reason she now stood within this field of death…she'd been called forth from the otherworld, heeded the call of the only one strong enough to pull her back._

"Uh...uh…D!" Luna whimpered, struggling to master the unfamiliarity of vocal cords. She tried to move closer to him, only to be thrown off by the strange solidity of her legs and topple to the ground. That didn't hinder her, she crawled to the side of were he hung; it was much easier that way. She wept when she noticed the useless stump that was his left hand and jumped backward suppressing a shriek when the wind pushed back the limp strands of his hair to reveal the gore soaked left side of his face, that coupled with blood and bits of flesh that has burst outward from where the pole had struck him was enough to cause this stolen heart of hers to race painfully. And yet somehow these injuries did not shock her…seeing them was distressing, but somehow the knowledge of their existence seemed innate.

She found herself thankful for the fact that he was completly unresponsive and hung far from her grasp, had he been awake and within her touch she was unsure weather or not she might have been able to hold back her fierce desire to touch, to hold and to feel him. That had not been why she'd been called forth into this body that she could manipulate for the time being, she'd been called to save him when he had no other, that was all.

Save for the weakly moaning victims about her the courtyard was empty; it was likely to remain that way. Dawn was only minutes away, soon the occupants of the crumbling castle around her would be sleeping. With a sad sigh Luna closed her eyes, stood up straight and summoned the strength she knew she'd been born with. All Nymphs were born with a reserve of truly amazing strength, it was a final defense mechanism. It wasn't especially easy to find within a body that was not even her own, yet it was there, as ingrained as the need to breathe and with a blur of speed the Nymph rammed herself into the thick pole of wood. With a groan the wood began to splinter and crack. Luna caught it and carefully guided it down onto the ground, trying her best not to shift D anymore than could be avoided.

Her first impulse was to dress his ghastly wounds, but she was forced to suppress her urges as a Healer as well. As terrible as they appeared, they would heal in time, but the chains that still bound his hands and feet would not disappear with time. Feeling far more confidant on her feet she rose and wrapped them tightly within her hands and pulled, naturally it was to no avail. Nymphs could be especially strong creatures yet they held no contest with the Nobility, even the Nobility could not sunder these chains. Luna knew of only one creature that could.

She sank down to D's side again, not daring to allow herself to touch him and gently whispered to him, "I won't be long D, I am going to go and find your Left Hand. He can break you free of these chains. Hold on."

Without a backward glance to bind her there a moment longer she turned and began to walk.

* * *

_The first time she'd seen D she could have sworn that she'd stumbled across the path of a great, mythic bird that a cruel hunter's arrow has shot down from the heavens. As she spurred her horse closer it became apparent that the form that lay dead or dying beneath the feeble shade of an iron oak tree was a human form wrapped in a great black coat and cape. A sword rested across his back, the blade was thin and crescent shaped, it's length was so great that she would not have been surprised if the weapon was as tall as herself._

_Whoever wielded a blade such as that must not only have been a Hunter, but highly skilled and wealthy hunter at that, no doubt a Vampire Hunter. She dismounted and rushed to the stranger's side, her mind flipped through the names of all the vampire hunters she'd heard of in this sector. She touched his shoulder with utmost care, "Sir, don't be frightened, I am not here to hurt you. I am a Nymph and I can help you." It was always wise to approach a wounded warrior with caution, they were like feral animals and likely to strike out in fright if they were in pain, but the figure in black made no response at all. She could hear only his shallow gasps for air. _

_Slowly, careful to avoid the spikes of his armor she rolled him onto his back, and jumped back with a gasp as the sunlight struck his face. Naturally the Nymph has seen the height of male beauty upon the faces of countless lovers but no beauty compared to the exquisite features of this Hunter. The straight, narrow nose, stern angle of his brow, thinly shaped eyes fringed with thick lashes, the thin line of his lips…each were features made to hypnotize the female eye, to overwhelm them. It was as if his beauty were his primary weapon. His shimmering black hair contrasted starkly against the paleness of his skin, and pushing back a tendril of his hair she revealed the characteristic pointed ears of a dhampir. _

_Instantly his name came to her, D, the Vampire Hunter D. He was the most successful, the most feared and most mysterious Vampire Hunter in the world. Following close on the heels of his legendary success were the tales of his beauty, beauty that could transfix even the most woman crazy young men. It was doubtless that was the identity to the fallen Hunter before her. _

_There was no apparent wound to his upper chest, yet the Hunter breathed in feeble, shallow gasps, and sweat had drenched his brow, yet his skin was ice cold. Almost loathe touching him she pulled back his eyelids and found that his pupils were widely dilated, each one of these signs was telltale to sun sickness. She pressed his fingers to his neck but she could find no pulse what so ever, already his heart had shut down. It would only be a moment before the rest of his vitals followed. The only real way for Luna to treat sun sickness was to bury the dhampir and to stand guard over the dormant body, but now the Hunter D was well beyond the help Mother Earth could provide him with. Without a moments hesitation she pulled a knife from her belt and sliced open her already scarred wrist, winching slightly as the blood started to flow. _

_She did not think twice about the dangerous possibilities that came with offering a dhampir her own life blood. Dhampir's were usually beings that more often than not fought to repress their Nobel urges. A taste could easily drive them mad with bloodlust. She'd bleed several time before to save a life, all life was sacred, even if one or twice the life she'd been saving had tried to turn their fangs to her neck. _

_She pulled D into her lap and pressed her wrist to his mouth, almost the instant the blood touched his lips life snapped back into a the dhampir's body, and he pulled her wrist down, harder against his lips. His mouth opened and fangs flashed against the sunlight before they pressed down into Luna's wrist. She did not deny the surge of twisting, red, lust that welled within her body as he penetrated her flesh. That lust only grew brighter as he drank deeply of her, moaning in contentment. _

_Even as faintness clouded her senses she didn't care. All that mattered now was this exquisite Hunter. She didn't mind if he drained her dry, so long as his enchanting mouth never left her flesh. Never before had offering her life to one of Nobel blood been a intimate experience. _

_D's eyes were opened now and fearlessly she met them. It was as though she were gazing into the very incarnation of beauty, of strength, wisdom and fearlessness. Into the very eyes of passion. _

_She knew then that she could never be parted from Vampire Hunter D and she knew then that nothing would ever be the same again. _

* * *

It proved much easier than she expected it would be to find the symbiote. Many creatures that Nobel experimentation had left upon the Earth carried a significant aura of energy about them, and that energy could easily be followed to one who was sensitive to its trail. The symboite was certainly no exception to Luna, she found she could have followed its pathway even if she were deprived of her sight and relied merely on instinct. It appeared the symboite had dwelled for some time within a large, deep padlocked box in the dungeon, but the box appeared to have been blasted open from the inside and the trail retreated frantically toward a window. The window was a narrow little slot within the stone work, just barley above the line of the ground. It would be folly to attempt to climb out of it, hopeless Luna peered outward at the oblivious wildlife about them. It would be much harder to follow its trail within nature.

A large crow flitted down onto the ground and strutted confidently about, eyes rapt for a meal yet they were not fast enough to see itself becoming the meal. The bird had time only to squawk with fear before a blurred shape swooped down upon it and gripped it tightly; there was strange crunching sound, almost like human teeth upon bone. The crow stilled beneath its attacker which appeared to be a severed human hand.

"Lefty!" Luna gasped in disbelief.

The hand stilled, and rose up on its fingers so that the palm faced her, a familiar gnarled old face rested within it, "Wha…Luna!" the hoarse voice wheezed.

"Hurry up before I am caught, get over here, it's time to go home!"

Obediently the hand abandoned its meal and skittered over to her side, yet blood still stained its fingers and its lips. With the strangest expression on her face she took the severed hand into her own hands. She'd seen a great deal of strange, unnatural things in her life, things far stranger even than this, yet D's sentient hand and the dismissive way he regarded it had simply never been something Luna had got completely used to. The times she'd seen D merely sever the limb and then watched it crawl away completely unfazed had been utter disconcerting, but now she had to force herself merely to accept it. There was no other option.

"Holy shit girl it's been ages! How the hell did you get here, I…well…we thought that…."

"I am dead? Yes, I am. I guess you haven't had a chance to pay attention to what Dracula's been up to."

"Well of course not! I have been trapped in a freaking magic box for a week! I only got out when that idiot Renfield forgot what the box was for and started stashing his dead flies in it; I used them to gather the strength I needed to break free. I've been sneaking about and trying to find Pretty Boy ever since."

"Well long story short Dracula has a girl in his power that can assume the shape of dead people, until now he was using her to torture D but he's made a mistake and now I am here to save him."

At this the severed hand within her own hands smiled, "Ah…you always were a deus ex machina."

"Sorry?"

"Deus Ex Machina, it's a literature term meaning something impossible that comes to save the day and put everything right. You've always done that for him, saved him, made life worth living once again."

She couldn't help but to smile, "He did the same for me."

"Hey, make a left turn here. There is a room were Dracs stashed all his stuff and if you know Pretty Boy as well as I do you know he'll have a hissy fit if he leaves this place without his hat."

* * *

Not only was the symboite able to simple melt away the chains that bound D, but it was also able to transfigure the wood into a much more pliable texture to ease it's removable. Nevertheless removing the pole proved to a gruesome event, in which D awoke midway through, groaning in an almost mortal sort of way, his now whole hands tearing deep furrows into the ground. Panicked Luna hide her face behind her hair and she began to sing, her song was louder than his screams and yet it's words were soothing and gentle. It worked instantly as D fell silent and closed his remaining eye one again. Hesitantly she raised her face and began to work again.

Merely touching his form, although so terribly mutilated was almost overwhelming, only her firm commitment to heal him kept Luna's desires in check.

"What in the world was that all about?" the hoarse voice rose.

"What?"

"Why did you hide your face?"

Frowning, Luna shook his head, "I….I just don't think it's such a good idea for him to see me. I was…I was sort of hoping to just save him and go. What good does it do for him to see me, and to mourn me all over again?"

"So then, your not staying?" the little voice said in almost sadness.

"Of course not. I cannot stay, I'd wind up just like Mina did, this body…no body can house one who has died. I am just dead, but here on temporary business I suppose. That doesn't make me alive. I don't belong here anymore, until I reincarnate then I never will. Most souls are in no rush to reincarnate and to return to the trails and pains of life, and I can't bear to not know how D is doing. In the Otherworld I know these things." she explained trying to focus hard on removing the last few inches of the stake.

"Well…you know them sure…but are you able to do anything about it?" the symboite pressed on sounding rather cautious of its words, "I mean…D's fallen into a complete hell over the past few years. He's falling apart with nothing left to hunt, with no real purpose in life other than to kill Daddy-O, but that's a mission that takes thousands of years. I am sure you've seen the things he's done, the addiction he himself caused and the way he treated Asenath. I am sure you know the way he didn't even question the appearance of Mina. He was just desperate to have someone to hold onto. Are any of those things that the D you gave you life for would have done?"

She pulled the last of the stake from D's body, trying not to feel sorrow as she gazed at the terrible wounds it left behind. "No." she breathed. "But I don't see your point Lefty."

"I am saying that what D needs more than anything else in the world is something or someone to care for, not some spirit distant looking out for him. If he had that than he never would have fallen into this mess in the first place."

"I still don't understand." Luna said shortly, signaling the end of the conversation. She did not see the symbiote smile at her abrupt end to the conversation. How many times had D done that same thing, did she even know that she'd picked up the habit?

She struggled to position D on her back and carried him from the courtyard. Dawn had broken by that time, and her suspicions that Castle Dracula had fallen too far into ruin for him to care about posting guards or repairing the security systems proved correct. She met no resistance as she crossed the gates, except from her stolen body. Her muscles ached in protest against the weight she carried, and her borrowed heart pumped at an erratic beat, already she could feel this bodies protest at housing her dead soul. She kept singing however, both to mitigate the pain in her and in D's body. The sun had crept higher into the sky, nearing midday when she at last laid D down at side of small stream. Castle Dracula was still to close for comfort, only a broken, crumbled mass of stone barely identifiable as a fortress, but if all went well than soon D would be far from the pathetic ruin.

At last she got the chance she'd sought after to clean his wounds using the stream water, and to dress them using the wide variety of herbs she found all about them. Already each one had stopped bleeding, and most all of the previous wounds he'd suffered before impalement were erased. Yet it appeared the wounds he'd suffered to his eye and midsection were healing far slower than they should have been, even for his accelerated healing they would take a few days to mend and there would be pain involved. She washed the last of the blood away from his body, and again forced herself to regard him merely as patient in need of her aid rather than her naked lover, each time she felt him stir into wakefulness she began to sing once again. With a heavy heart she tied his faded grey scarf over his missing left eye, knowing nothing could restore it, and pulled his cape over his body. She turned, intending to leave then, to get Asenath's body back to the castle before she was missed, D never needed to know whom his savior was. All that matter was that he was safe.

Yet she could not help but to turn, to glance once more upon him in helpless desire at her lover whose touch she'd denied.

D's eye snapped open, and he turned his head to gaze upon her.


	8. Chapter 8: Seen and Unforseen

**Pale**

**Chapter Eight: Seen and Unforeseen**

_Note: I am thinking in the final story to this monster of a fan fiction, titled **Dawn of Eternity**, most of the flashbacks are going to be from the POV of Dracula. I get an early start on that in this chapter. Oh and the story I mention about the starving man isn't something I have ever read Vlad the Impaler actually doing…but it's something I am sure he would do. And thanx to my always devoted **Master of the Boot **for the inspiration I needed in writing this! And one more thing, I have internet again! Updates will be much faster again!! Chapter 8 of 9._

* * *

"_The sword is slicing though the question so I won't be fooled by his angel light." - Sorrow, Flyleaf_

"_Well John your about to learn that fate is a fickle bitch." - Cabin Fever, Lost._

Luna froze where she stood, she was helpless against it. That was simply the power of the Hunter's enchanting dark gaze to paralyze all those unlucky enough to gaze upon it. She lowered her eyes from him, but her heart was already racing at a furious rhythm. Fluidly D had pulled himself up, quite uncaring of the oozing wounds to his midsection and back and he gazed steadily at her. He spared a quick glace at the tiny relic that he still had clutched in his hand, the Resurrection Stone. Naturally he did not speak, yet now it was because he was at an utter loss for words rather than his usual taciturn nature.

Cautiously Luna stepped closer to him, "It's going a bit longer before you heal. I am not sure what your father did, but he's hindered your healing ability. I left some herbs in a bag on your belt, take them as much as you need, they should kill the pain." She made her voice sound as firm and detached as possible.

"Wait." D called out, his voice was hoarse, likely from the cries he'd been screaming earlier. He stood, the black cape she'd covered him with fell eagerly from his naked form, once again revealing its honed musculature to her eyes. He reached out and grasped her hand, the coveted stone fell carelessly from his grasp. "This time I know that you're not a dream." He breathed softly.

Luna's face was truly a mask of anguish as a wild surge of need rippled though her body at the mere touch of his hand. But the need to follow the unspoken rules of the dead raged through her consciousness. 'D…" her wavering voice protested. "I am not supposed to be here. I have to go now. Asenath needs her body back, I can't…"

"To hell with Asenath." He answered, his voice almost passionate. His remaining eye gazed at her with all the sorrow and denied want Luna herself had been combating. He slowly raised his hands, first to caress her cheek and then to pull her into his embrace and kiss her furiously.

Helpless Luna reciprocated his fevered kiss with one of her own, throwing her arms about his neck. A sudden, heated thread of ardor crushed over them both, simultaneously binding their hearts together with its fiery thread. For a fleeting moment the two experienced the same harmonious glow they'd known so long ago, the simple knowledge that they were meant to be together, one way or the other. Yet that desperate hope lasted only until their lips parted. Luna gazed momentarily at D, than she lowered her eyes suppressing a sob. It suddenly seemed as if that glorious moment of unification had crashed around them.

It's was only for a moment that D allowed this phantom sense of doom to overtake him before he pulled her back into his hungry kiss and locked her with his embrace. Now it seemed Luna was more that willing to submit to the spell of his presence as she returned his kiss and tightened her arms about him. Now she did not dare protest as D's hands caressed her shoulders, and her back, nor did she object the wild way his tongue tangled with hers.

Panting with heated fervor she slid her hands down his body and explored the long forgotten, steely plains of his chest. Sighing, D drug his kiss down the side of her face until his mouth rested against the tantalizing smooth curve of her neck. He gently kissed the twin scars he found there, the scars she bore from the first time he'd made love to her. His jaw ached harshly as his fangs distended past the line of his lips, but, for now at least, he allowed only his aching lips to touch her skin. Luna sighed, so like she had in life, and she pressed him closer to his neck, yearning for his bite.

She let D wrestle her passionately down onto the grass, his lips never once leaving her skin as he kissed downward, onto her breast. Once they lay in the grass he harshly pushed aside the vine woven straps of her gown to expose her full breasts to his affections. It seemed as if all her fears of what consequence of this unnatural union might have had been pushed from her mind as she slid her hands down D's body, gasping as his teeth clamped carefully down onto her breast, and feeling desire burn with agonizing life within her center as she felt D's rigid length pressing against her thigh.

D hungrily explored her breasts, than shifted his burning kiss down her body again, to her belly, then down to her thighs, and back up to where she most hungered for his kiss, slowly his hands pulled the thin dress away from her body. He tempted her slowly, and his hands slid across her skin as though he were trying to savor every sensation that now enslaved him. To cherish each precious moment they had together. He rose up to pull her into the line of his body, kissing her deeply. She curled her legs around his hips, and tightly grasped his arms, as though unwilling to ever let him go.

Slowly, savoring each heated moment D joined their bodies, the first fulfilled gasps welling from both of their lips. D pulled her as close as he could into his embrace, kissed her lips ravenously. Luna in turn whimpered against him, and returned his kiss in a manner that was feverish and almost perverse coming from her. She wound her legs tighter about him, and then shot upward, pinning D down onto the grass. She kissed him hungrily once again, and began to move her hips in a most drugging way, trapping him down with her arms. For a fleeting moment D found himself confused over her heated actions…certainly there had been times when their lovemaking had been more wild than loving…yet something was different. The Nymph had craved carnal pleasures the way he craved blood, and yet when she submitted to her lust she'd rarely been so raw. Her lovemaking had always been eager, and yet gentle. Yet the strangeness of the moment could not be dwelled upon long. D had fallen a slave to her insistence, and he latched onto her lips almost viciously, his fangs tearing at her lips, and feverishly he kissed away the blood that welled from her wounds. The furious rhythm of her heart echoed in his ears.

And then he violently pulled away her kiss, D's remaining eye flew open, already an enraged light was building in his obsidian eye. Her blood tasted….fowl. It wasn't the blood of a Nymph, it was thin and watery, with a hint of darkness to it…but it wasn't the blood of a creature born of magic, wasn't the rich, enslaving taste of the woman he'd so loved. That he could not forget.

"D…" she whimpered as he pulled away from her, "What's wrong?"

His expression was utterly started as he regarded her…true, the only reason he was able to look upon her, to touch her at all was because of a vessel that had once been human. But what if it was only the vessel he were making love to now, a vessel that did not house the soul of his beloved? Certainty flooded his awareness and angrily he tore the vessel away from his embrace, flinging her down almost ten feet from where he lay.

'You're not here at all, are you?"

Shock flooded her features.

D glared dangerously at the Pale One as though he were now fully able to see though the mask she'd been wearing. "You're just wearing her face. Her sprit has been gone for a while now." He stated lowly.

The Pale One trembled in horror as her features began to change into her own flawed and dull ones. It seemed that the loss of his left eye had no effect of the formidable power of his gaze, if anything that singular glare was all the more powerful.

"She…"Asenath sobbed, her head hung low, "She left after she kissed you, she was so terrified that if you made love to her the pain of her departure would be to much for you to bear."

D pulled on his coat, and with the slow movements of stalking killer he unsheathed his long sword and began to approach Asenath, "So you wore her face and used it to your advantage." His whispered voice was positively savage.

"What! No!! I…I knew you better D! Do you know how much I have learned about you in the past month, more than even she can ever know! I know how deeply you miss her, and I know that it tears you apart that your father violated her before she died and how you wish you could have loved her just once more before it happened." Asenath found that her feet were frozen to the ground as D stalked ever closer, his gleaming blade shimmering as he leveled it at her. It was a scene all too familiar to her soul.

She didn't flinch even as he pressed the tip of the blade against the hollow of her throat, she merely whimpered, allowing blood colored tears to trickle down the side of her face.

"How dare you impersonate her? How dare you deem yourself worth of my presence much less my affections? How many times must I tell you that you mean nothing to me?" D's voice was sibilant.

The heavy blade slide easily down from her throat, to the center of her chest. Asenath could not bear to look at his face, much like Elena could not so long ago. It was a face that she'd been responsible for destroying. "I never meant for you to know!" she whimpered, her mouth hardly able to form the words. "I only wanted to give you the chance you wanted…It…It wasn't for me at all!" she sobbed out.

The point of the blade did not move.

D regarded her for a long, tense moment, unable to move his blade forward, nor away from her. The girl looked positively pathetic as she trembled before his blade, her eyes lowered as though hung with the shame of the deceitful deeds she'd plagued him with again and again. She looked far too much like Elena had so many years ago, pathetic and lost within a world that was too hopelessly black for her to fathom. She was nothing at all but a nuisance, she was hardly even pathetic now…just desperately worthless. Not even worth the cut of his blade.

Slowly D lowered the sword; Asenath peered up at him with her terrified, muddy eyes. "Never wear that face again." he whispered, and in a blur of darkness his hand shot forward to seize the ring the Pale One still wore on her finger, and pulled it from her.

"I…I promise!" she cried weakly. D's eye bore ruthlessly into her, shimmering slightly with the crimson of blazing hatred, and spurred by this light Asenath turned and fled into the woods in little more than a dark blur.

* * *

Asenath wasn't sure how long had passed since she'd fallen onto the forest floor and curled into a fetal position among the twigs and the leaves, but the moon had risen above her since then, pushing away the scorching rays of sunlight that pained, but did not smolder her skin. Still she could not fight the convulsive tears that had rendered her so defenseless. There was a throbbing ache all though her form and she knew that it was her own body protesting the precious blood she was loosing through her tears. Soon enough she supposed the bloodlust would grow stronger, forcing her to push aside these wasteful tears and to hunt.

She pushed herself up, staring up at the silver orb of the moonlight. _Why? Why do I have to shed so many tears over D? Why is it that I so desperately love a man who's never even kissed **me**? Who's never even said a kind word to me?_

Weakly she pulled herself into a feeble sitting position in which her head rested on her knees that she hugged to her chest. She looked much like a lost child caught within a violent battlefield, and in truth that's what she was. She'd once been a girl of only 17, with no true ties or cares in the world, but now here she was immortal, a pawn for the Vampire King, locked within an eons old blood feud, and soul shatteringly in love with a black hearted killer.

Before she'd met D she'd been quite aware of her ability and kinship with the dead. She figured she'd merely adopted a passing psychic trait from her family line. After all the transformations occurred only when she touched an object belonging to the dead, and lasted only for a few seconds, hardly long enough for her ability to have any true value. And then Dracula had found her and showed her who she'd been, and who she could be. Who could resist such temptation?

She felt she already knew the answer as to why she loved D so fiercely. Elena, her past self, had fallen into the same trap, before he'd killed her in cold blood. It was only natural for such emotion to carry into other lives. But it did not make this burden any easier to bear. You simply could not deny, or prevent love from happening. She loved D all the same, and for a fleeting moment during her deception she'd felt utterly whole within D's embrace. As though nothing else in her life would ever again cause her pain.

Her head snapped up from her revere when she caught to sound of a twig crunching underfoot, closely following it was a strong scent carried by the wind; it was the sent of rotting blood and animal decay, the scent of Renfield.

With a gasp Asenath pulled herself up and darted away from the scent, only the scream out a second later as it seemed the very darkness before her shifted and took on form. She recognized the frozen hands that the night had gripped her with, Dracula's hands. He grasped her face harshly and forced her up to meet his enraged eyes, "Where is he!" he growled.

* * *

D's expression was quite unreadable as he gazed at his moonlit reflection in the still surface of a small pond. The reflection itself was hazy, as though unsure if it wanted to be seen, much like the shadow at D's side. As he placed the wide brimmed hat atop of his head once again he frowned slightly. He was clearly not the man he'd grown accustomed to seeing reflected back at him, it seemed as if the traces of age about his face had grown all the more vivid now that he was wearing an eye patch he'd fashioned from the leather of his coat. But it also seemed as though there was something truer about this reflection, something much stronger and colder. He bore a passing resemblance to an ancient God of the Norse, an often harsh yet a wise God that had sacrificed his eye in order to gain all of the wisdom in the world. At this the Hunter smiled slightly, while he was used to using his beauty to mesmerize and weaken his enemies, this new look of forbidding suited his tastes far better.

After securing his sword upon his back, D made way into the woodland where Asenath had fled. Now that night had fallen, Dracula and Renfield likely would not be far, and he still had business left to attend to. For only a few minutes D followed her scent. Already he noticed that with the partial loss of vision his scenes of hearing and scent had been sharply increased. Asenath's terrified path was as distinctive to him now as the smell of blood would have been in the past, and he was certain that the faint rustling sounds he kept detecting all round him were the sound of worms squirming about in the earth. His remaining eye could detect every vein within the leaves around him, even though the oppressive darkness. True he'd lost some of his depth perception, yet the sharpness of other senses gathered the information he failed to see. Now as he moved he seemed fiercely sleek and predatory. Somehow the ruthless Hunter the Vampire King himself had created had emerged from Dracula's rage, honed and more lethal than ever before. Birds stirred restlessly in the trees and fled with a cry as the dangerous, miresome aura that surrounded D touched them high within their treetops.

He easily caught the sound of _his_ movement rushing through the forest, as well as the voices carried over by the wind. They were seeking him, and D merely stood in darkness and awaiting them, drawing his sword as he did.

Moments later Dracula came bursting out of the woodland, dragging the still sobbing Asenath along side of him by her hair. Renfield came stumbling out a second later, his attention focused on chasing a miniature moth just visible in the swath of moonlight. He still wore the ragged brown cloak that throbbed with a poisonous aura about his shoulders. "Renfield!" Dracula snapped, pushing aside Asenath carelessly as he regarded his son standing before him as dangerous and terrible as ever. Unconsciously the Vampire King pulled himself to stand straighter, daring to look the Hunter in the eye. For the first time he realized that D was indeed much taller than himself, much more muscular. While the Sacred Ancestor seemed a shard of darkness given form, D seemed like the very moonlight, crystallized and given form….seemed far more deadly and seductive than a mere creature of the night.

Crimson fire ignited within the Sacred Ancestor's blue eyes, "This is it. Your end will be tonight D." He pulled free his own sword, a slender, jeweled broadsword that didn't look as if could stand a chance against D's curved blade, but without concern of this he lunged forward with a roar.

D's blade flew in a gleaming arc toward Dracula's midsection, but the Sacred Ancestor bent backward to a impossible angle and dodged the strike. He shot up and thrust upward with his sword, pushing D's blade away leaving the Hunter momentarily exposed. That moment was all that he needed to plunge his hand into the richly embodied pocket of his coat and to pull free a long, silver barreled pistol. Three shots roared from the antique weapon and each bullet found D square in the chest. D staggered a bit, dropping to his knees as the bullets throbbed within his flesh, a white colored smoke appeared to issue from the wounds, his blade slipped from his hands.

Dracula grinned as he lowered the gun, "I must say it's quite fortunate for me that you find the use of guns unromantic and cowardly, because I've spend more time with humans than I to care to admit and I quickly learned the value of such a crude weapon. No blade carries quite the element of surprise, and it's quite useful when you bless the bullets against your own kind."

Indeed the bullets were burning terribly within D's flesh, it was a gnawing sort of agony that paralyzed his limbs the same way looking upon a cross did. It wouldn't be enough to kill D by any means; however it had effectively weakened him. Dracula raised his gleaming sword.

D's eye remained fixated not on his father's blade, but on Renfield, his pallid face was wild as he tracked the progress of the frail moth that fluttered across the scene, the air about his cloak seemed to be trembling with malice. Dracula's sword flew downward, but D had shot upward again, although his speed was greatly hindered by the blessed bullets. His left arm shot upward, blocking the blades path, while his right hand shot forth into the darkness. He seized the fluttering moth, and then crushed it underhand.

Asenath, who crouched feebly in the shadows, gave a shocked cry as D's left arm fell to the forest floor in a spurt of crimson, yet Renfield gave a violent, keening scream of rage. "No!" In a blur of blackness the zoophagous leapt upon the Hunter, slamming his fists down again and again into his form. "It was precious! It was precious!" he raved in his anger.

D however had been prepared for this reaction and merely had to reach out to retrieve his fallen blade. The elegant sword seemed to be gleaming with a strange bluish tint as it moved upward, though the moonlight. D shoved the engaged Renfield away from his form with a surreal push of what remained of his left arm, finding enough strength to send him flying upward. He slashed into Renfield's form, bisecting it in a clean, diagonal cut though the chest. For a moment the zoophagous' mad eyes flew wide, before the two halves of him thudded onto the ground. The tangled cloak about him seemed to glow with an feeble red light, the slash that rent through it throwing off a golden hue, until the light died away.

The Horcrux had been destroyed before it could throw up its last line of defense to hinder D, usually taking the form of a taunting hallucination, but now it lay an empty rag on the dead leaves. Utter silence feel over the confrontation, and for a moment even the raging fire alight within Dracula's eyes died as he started in disbelief at his shattered vessel.

D used this moment to pull himself up and to retrieve his severed left arm from the ground; the stinging of the blessed bullets had gradually started to fade away until his healing body had pushed them from the wounds. Once the familiar tingle of rapidly regrowing tissue filled his reattached left arm, he glared up at his father. "I believe that makes the thirteenth Horcrux." he said gelidly. "Or perhaps that was the fourteenth, counting the one the Boy Wizard destroyed."

Slowly, the shimmer again smoldering in his eyes Dracula tossed away his sword and slowly he lifted his gun, with a practiced movement he thrust the back of the gun into his fanged teeth, and swiftly clicked the shells out, and replaced them with a fresh cartridge that glowed with an unnatural blue light. Manticore venom.

The wind whipped Dracula's hair out behind him, only then did D notice that his father did not appear quite so refined and elegant as he'd appeared to him last. His black hair hung limply to his waist, wild and uncombed. Coupled with his gleaming eyes, livid teeth and the shabby appearance of his once elegant scarlet coat, he truly appeared fearsome….more demonic than Nobel. "No more games D. Let's just end this forever." he hissed low and gutturally.

"Very well." the Hunter replied.

Dracula seemed to distort as he lunged toward D, the blackness about him warping outward to touch his form even as it dissolved into nothingness. Yet D remained utterly calm, and unmoving. His enemy may have seemingly slipped into the very blackness of night, but still he could sense him all about. A shot rang out in the darkness, D's blade arched around toward the blast and sliced through the bullet in a swift, easy motion. Another and another roared out, each in a different, seemingly impossible location, but D's blade severed each without a seconds pause.

From that darkness to the right of D a pair of crimson eyes glowed angrily before Dracula, again possessing form, leapt out at D, a silver blade within his hands. D merely reached out, and seized him by his neck, and slammed him down onto the ground in a blur of movement. The trees around them shuttered at the force of the impact D had made with his father. For a moment their hate filled gazes locked, until once more Dracula appeared to dissolve into darkness. But D remained unfazed; it was only a illusion, a spell meant to confuse D. He simply refused to believe it, his father was right there, trapped in his hands. The illusion seemed to fade away, and D bore his gaze down into his father's eyes. He allowed the whole of his consciousness to sink down past those hate filled orbs, to claw his way into Dracula's mind. The first scene that struck D's consciousness was the fear that was reverberating in his victims mind; clearly he'd not expect D to slip so easily past the barrier that shielded his thoughts. Yet for the past 2,000 years he'd been seeking out his father's soul and destroyed it bit by bit. Perhaps D knew his fathers soul better than Dracula himself.

Yet Dracula was more than ready to resist D within his own mind, and their bodies lay forgotten as they faced off in a purely mental struggle for domination. Dracula again appeared to command the darkness within his own mind, and turned it against D's assault, yet D did not even need to defend again the encroaching shadows. His thought seemed to reverberate into the darkness as though it had been verbal, "You are powerless against me. Show me your secrets."

"Never!" Dracula growled out both within his own mind, and verbally. He pulled the darkness tighter about these thoughts, sealing away each entrance. Countless times he'd defended his mind in this impenetrable manner, it was folly for any man to dare penetrate this darkness, it would drive one mad to do so.

Therefore the expression on the Sacred Ancestors face was quite horrified when D managed to claw his way past that black wall. It was as if he had no resistance at all to D's singular, burning eye. Instantly the whole of his life, of his secrets, failure and successes, love and hates where laid bare before D. For a moment Dracula despaired at this defiance, until revelation swept past his consciousness. His last taunt before leaving D in the castle had been, "Your pain, your blood is my life-force.", he'd taken substance and consumed D's body against his will….and thus had violated one of the many genetic rules of the Nobility. If a powerful Nobles blood is taken against their will, than that blood would retaliate, causing the attacker excruciating pain. A lesser Nobel could easily die from the resulting attack, but even those powerful ones that survived would be forever haunted with the guilt of their act. Dracula however did not feel any pain from within his blood stream; D's invasion was far more potent, and directed furiously at his mind. It was as if the Hunter already had an eye within his very mind, showing him each minuscule weakness Dracula possessed.

"Oh….you have to be fucking kidding me!" he groaned out. Once today he'd been careless enough to leave the Resurrection Stone within his son's palm, just waiting to be used for his rescue, but now it seemed he'd made two careless mistakes. He'd consumed the eye of an immortal being, and so long as life remained in the source of its immortal host devoured flesh wouldn't cease to be merely by being devoured. It would restore itself to live on in the cells of it's new body, a mere thought of what it had once been, but still a living and conscious tissue whose essence couldn't be destroyed. Therefore D could effectively "see" into Dracula's own soul.

Again D's voice came, commanding its way into Dracula's mind and powerlessly his consciousness submitted to the voice. "Show me your secrets….

_The Sacred Ancestor's eyes were gleaming with crimson fire as they stalked the listless path the young girl was taking down the old, cobblestone Roman road. Overhead the moon was beaming its light down upon the scene, a swollen, golden orb. It was the perfect day for blood, for committing sins. Dracula pushed back the wide brim of his crushed red velvet hat, and straightened the matching coat. He found that he was especially fond of the styles humans where wearing in the age that would later be known as Victorian, perhaps, when he again had the world within his grasp he would resurrect the style as it was sure to fall into fad. The girl whom he stalked was not a elaborate dressed lady however, she was a thin, frightened little thing that clutched a basket full of stolen potatoes as though it were gold, the only thing she wore that seemed somewhat new was the brown cloak about her shoulders. She could not have been a day past 15. _

_Dracula cast his glance over to a huddled form in the bush next to him, "On my word Renfield." he bid to the shadow. His newest servant, a weak minded, jobless pheasant with a strange obsession for animals nodded obediently. His experiments on Renfield had gone wonderfully well…if it was possible to create a servant that simply could not dream of insubordination that what else might science do for him? _

_No matter, now he was to see what magic could do for him. _

_Dracula stepped out of the shadows and onto the cobblestone road, placing himself in front of the young girl. Gasping in fright she paused, yet as she regarded him her expression was not only of fright, but of a strange desire that she didn't seem able to grasp. He smiled and moved slowly over to the girl, "It's dangerous out here in the dark young one. What in God's name do you think your doing?" _

"_Papa told me…I was jus…." the girl stuttered, unable to understand why she was unable to tear her gaze away from the tall, dark haired noble man that loomed before her. He was simply….beautiful. It was not a term she'd ever used to describe a man before…but this noble…._

_He moved slowly forward, and laid his enormous hand on her shoulder, "You are in need of an escort my dear, let me help you." In a kind manner he placed his hand at the small of her back to lead her forward and for a moment the girl thought that was all that was to transpire of the encounter. Then Dracula cried out, "Now!" _

_A blur of black lightening seemed to shoot out from the tree line, and Dracula's pale hand snapped outward and grasped the flying object. It was a thick wooden pole sharpened to a deadly point. The girl did not even have time to scream before Dracula lunged, piercing her cleanly though the abdomen and embedding the stake into the bole of an oak tree. The future Vampire King suppressed a malicious smirk as he watched the impaled girl writhing and screaming. The way her poor face twisted about in agony was almost endearing to his eyes, she thought that she was about to die but little did she know that death would come tremendously slow. Once Dracula had been Vlad Tepes, Vlad the Impaler. He'd been the monster, the Dragon that had been feared by an entire nation. He knew how to kill and how to torment like none other before or after him. The human body could suffer in ways that were beautiful in their cruelty before Death overtook them. A man could be sawed slowly in half from the crotch upward and not loose consciousness until you reached the sternum. Impalement was much the same…it was a slow, delicious death as it set upon its victims. So long as the spear pieced the sides, rectum, genitals or mouth death could take hours or even days to arrive. If pierced right it would stop the flow of blood and prolong their agony for even longer. Often times Dracula found himself missing that age hundreds of years ago when he could walk about through a field that was planted with his grotesque trees. The stench of decay had intoxicated him, the trembles of agony and the copious flow of blood had hypnotized him._

_Dracula vowed lowly to himself that once again he would plant such a forest, but, for now, he needed to remain unseen. Soon the world would be ready for him, and he needed to be ready for it._

_He grinned, his eyes blazing once again as he moved toward the trembling, sobbing girl he'd pinned to the tree. He ripped away her clothing, although for some reason he seemed concerned with not tearing the cloak too badly. His fangs flashed in the golden hued moonlight as he stripped out of his trousers. He savored the wild cries of the girl as the deflowered her with both his fangs and his manhood. The rush of her terrified blood in his veins, coupled with the fear in her unwilling body left him dizzy, and roaring out in maniacal triumph. Again and again he violated and tortured the luckless girl, seemingly out of no motive but the slow flow of her lifeblood. She at last died not long before sunrise. Dracula stepped away from her limp body still pinned to the tree, and nodded for Renfield to return to his side. _

_He ripped away the thick cloak the girl had been wearing and cast it over to Renfield. "Have that mended before tomorrow night. What do you think, my friend, was that at all heartless and cruel of me?"_

"_Oh yes! Yes my Master." the zoophagous, as Dracula was calling him, bid enthusiastically. _

_Dracula shrugged as he regarded the horrific body before him. "I suppose I just miss the days of real torture. I can still recall the day a foolish young man told me that his family was starving due the cost of the war I raged against the Turks. So I took him to the castle, and invited his family over for dinner. I served them his ears, eyes, tongue and his cock. His wife choked to death on it. Now that was a worthy death right there. This is nothing." __Dracula shrugged. "Ah well, it will have to do."_

There was a brief flash of darkness before clarity once again returned to the images Dracula was surrendering.

_He was standing within a poorly lit room that seemed to defy the very laws of physics and even gravity. The stone walls jutted out at impossible, alien angles. They were angles that would have driven a lesser man into madness as the terrifying impossibility of them, yet Dracula stood utterly unfazed by them, he was wearing only his black trousers. His eyes did not linger for a moment at the eldritch stonework; rather they were fixated on the glyphs that were sprawled across the walls. To his knowledge he was the only creature that was born of this Earth that could understand their meaning. They were not the writings of natural born creatures, they were the glyphs of the Old Ones, and the temple of madness he stood within was R'lyeh._

_He nodded into the shadows, "Stop being such a damned pussy Renfield, bring me the tools!" _

_Trembling, the once enthusiastic servant shuffled toward Dracula, first he handed him the cloak he'd stolen from the girl. Strangely enough Dracula kneeled down and laid the cloak out before him. Next the servant handed him a silver tray that was laden with a dozen or so scalpel shaped tools. Each instrument seemed honed to a tempered edge and each one was splattered with the rust color of long dried blood. The future King of the Vampires selected the smallest knife, and smirked coolly at the terrified continence of his servant. _

"_You see, Renfield, I have to do it this way. You remember the theory that I have been working on, correct? The Wizards believe after slaughtering another, the soul is ripped apart, but it's possible with a few magic words and wand to house one of the fragments of the soul. But they are ignorant. They believe the soul is housed in the heart, and it's from there that they would pull the soul fragment, but the heart is merely the emotional center of the soul. They pulled free merely a fragment of a fragment. The Old Ones knew the art much better, the magic wielders among them used far more potent words, and they pulled what passes for their soul from the abdomen, where the soul rests. The result was not only immortality but indestructibility. Perhaps that's why Cthulhu, why so few of the Old Ones ever submit to death. If this works tonight Renfield, you'd best think of creating a few for yourself. My temper is unpredictable, and the plans I have for this world require the help of a most devoted servant."_

"_Oh…of course, My Master!" the servant bid, although he was clearly terrified of the thought. _

_At this Dracula did not regard the servant further. Rather he pulled the well honed scalpel harshly across his lower abdomen. An expression of steely resolve fixated upon his cruel face, and it did not twitch the slightest as he began to cut deeper and deeper, changing scalpels every so often. Soon he'd gouged a neat, brutal hole within his abdomen and he paid no attention to the withered viscera that hindered his way. He had no need for such organs, he focused entirely on finding his soul. Only his eyes moved as they closed, and he allowed the memory of the brutal murder he'd committed only hours before flash before him. He ignored the pain, and latched wholly onto the delicious sinfulness of violating, and killing that defenseless girl. True there had been far worse crimes committed by the man that had once been Vlad the Impaler, but he'd needed to be certain that this brutal ritual had a chance to split what remained of his soul, so he'd killed recently ._

_It wasn't until he could feel the grating scrape of the scalpel upon the bones of his spine that he stopped, eyes flying wide. Suddenly he could feel **it.** His soul…a living, breathing, glowing…and fragmented entity that dwelled within his midsection. So far so good…he'd worried that being Undead meant that he had no soul, yet the burning within him was undeniable. _

"_Renfield! The wand!" He commanded evenly. _

_A slender wand of oak wood was handed into Dracula's grasp, and without hesitation he began to chant. His words were guttural, and unable to be understood by any that might have heard them but the effect was plain enough. From the hole in his abdomen a light that shimmered at first a sparkling blue and then a bright, smoldering red arced outward and clung to the tip of the wand. When Dracula pressed the wand down into the bloodstained fabric of the cloak before him, causing the garment to glow with a blood red light for a moment, before the light faded away. Grinning he tossed the wand aside and pushed his hands though the fabric, every thread and seam was thrumming with his essence, with his power. The cloak was stained with his own lifeblood, it to held the essence not just of his soul, but his body as well. He's done it, created a vessel far more useful than any wizard Horcrux. _

"ENOUGH!"

It was Dracula's enraged roar that ended the stream of memories, and once again there was only him and his accursed son lying within the forest. D's remaining eye was burning with a blinding crimson fury, one that the Vampire King himself could not master. Dracula form again dissolved into darkness, this time the illusion was strong enough for him to slip from D's grasp, and to reform about twelve feet away from his son.

"Very interesting. Now, tell me your true name." D said in his usual, unemotional tone.

Dracula's mien however was flooded with panic, and in a moment of blind fury he raised his gun once again, "I'd rather eat shit and die!" The roar of his gunfire was rivaled only by the gorgeous scream of D's blade slicing each bullet out of the air. And it was this beautiful cry that masked the sound of footsteps to the Sacred Ancestors ears. He stepped forward, screaming with rage as he fired again and again, until the sound of another singing blade rent thought the air. This sound caused him to freeze completely.

The expression on D's face was more curious than shocked as he watch a thick line of blood appear to grow across Dracula's pale neck. A second later Dracula fell forward, his head toppling off cleanly from the bloody stump of his neck. Behind his fallen body stood Asenath, a long knife clinched in her trembling hands.

For a long moment D's smoldering gaze bore into the girl, who sobbed lightly, not daring to look him in the eye, her head hung in shame for the victory she'd stolen from him. Perhaps it had been her fierce devotion to the Hunter that had caused her to step forth and slay her maker, or perhaps it had been a surge of bravery on her part, bravery she hoped might prove herself worth of D's acceptance. Yet whatever the cause she said nothing.

At last it was D that spoke, "You'd best be on your way. He'll be resurrecting soon."

Without a further word D turned away from her.


	9. Chapter 9: The Fragments

**Pale**

_**Chapter 9: The Fragments**_

_Note: Well, this wraps up this story, hope I have done okay. Deep deep down, I believe D's character is kind and compassionate, so I hope I have shown that in a believable way. I make mention to a forthcoming volume of VHD, one I am very excited about. I'll ramble later. =)_

"_And I'd give all the world tonight, to be with you because I'm on your side, and I still care. I may have died, but I've gone nowhere." -I'll Be There, The Escape Club_

* * *

**Three Months Later**

Well, well!" cried a rotund middle aged man as the very same traveler the town had been whispering about ducked through the minuscule door to his shop. "Vampire Hunter D here, in my potions shop!" the man laughed as though greeting an old friend.

D nodded and moved slowly across the dusty, rather ill stocked potions store, "Horace Ollivander." he nodded in a simple greeting.

"D, my good boy! It must have been 25 years since I have heard a mite from you, and look! You're just the same as…." Horace Ollivander paused, his voice caught painfully in his throat as the Hunter stepped fully into the light. The once glorious face he recalled beneath the Hunters immense hat and thick hair was gone, replaced with the mien of a middle aged, hardened man that was missing his left eye. "Oh my…what…what on Earth has happened to you?"

At this the Hunter answered in an almost amused tone, "You forget that I am half human, Horace."

The shopkeeper however shook his head, "Well yes…but…well my father and his father have all befriended you and aided you when you had need of magical help, and each one was marveled that you never aged a single day. Did…did you really lose your eye? Please just tell me that you're playing a cruel little joke on me?"

"I did." he answered, but disbelief still tinged the shop keeper face up until D lifted the eye patch to show the disconcerting wound. His flesh had healed neatly, but the gaping hole where the eye should have been, coupled with the jagged folds of skin that had once been eyelids, was quite horrific to the unsuspecting viewer. Horace jumped backward with a terrified gasp before he caught himself.

"Oh…I am sorry Mr. D. Sorry about what happened…"

"It doesn't matter. I lost that battle, but it gave me the upper ground in the war. Now, I have something to ask of you."

The shopkeeper stuttered, "Well, you know I have a quite a few magical eyes I could sell you! Some can even see through solid walls, although they do have a habit of moving about to their own will."

At this the shopkeeper could have sworn he'd heard a strange, muffled voice snickering at his words, followed by a mock, "Oh, please, we have to get one D!"

D however appeared to pay the strange voice no attention. It had not been the first time Horace had noticed this oddity about him. "I have need of a wand, Horace."

"A wand?" answered the shop keeper with pride coloring his face. "Well… I dare say you've come to the right man then. After all…my family has been making them for eons, yet I've sold only a mere hundred!" The rotund man beckoned D behind the counter, and into a small room that was cluttered with thousands of tiny, slender boxes. "I wish that for you I could just give you a wand for free, but business is terrible. I fear the age of the Wizards is long dead my friend. The only business I do these days are young lovers wanting love potions, or Muggles using the Orb of Thesulah as paperweights."

"Than it only is fair that I pay double the price." answered D distantly as he scanned the small room, seeking a box that caught his gaze. It land upon a battered golden colored one, he took the box and opened the lid. The wand inside was smooth, slender and pale.

"Ah, that's a fine wand right there. Yew. 13 inches. Crow feather core. An excellent wand for complex spells, alchemy, and well suited to those of Nobel blood."

D nodded his approval as he took the wand into his right hand, a flood of warmth coursed up his arm and as he gave the wand a slight wave, a shower of multicolored sparks emitted from the tip. He pressed a bag full of golden coins into the rotund wizard's hand.

Dumbfounded by the amount he received, Horace stuttered as he spoke next. "Tha…thank you kindly! Might I ask what need does the greatest dhampir and greatest Vampire Hunter…all in all the savior of mankind…need with an ordinary wand?"

"Insurance" D answered vaguely, "Besides, while magic may run within my bloodline, I must be able to focus it, and that's where this wand comes in use." He touched his hand to the brim of his hat, nodding his thanks and goodbye to the shop keeper, and then without another word he turned away.

**

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**

D paused before he entered the cyclopean ruins towering before him; behind him was a treacherous drop, in which it seemed like all the land of the Earth was sprawled below. D turned toward the dizzying precipice, and pushed back the brim of his hat and glared down at the scene.

His eye could see even the faint ribbon of an unpaved road far below the mountain shelf he was now standing at. And on that dull grey line he could see the shape of a pale skinned woman. The filmy white dress she wore, and the way the wind tossed her russet colored hair made her identity unmistakable. Asenath was following him still.

"Damn…I gotta hand it to that girl; she's not one to give up easily." Rose a familiar voice.

D nodded in a faint agreement. The girl's strength and powers were truly formidable to have followed him into this forgotten land. The verdant, yet empty land D had journeyed to shortly after attaining his wand was a land once known by the name of Lemuria. Several times in the course history it had been a prosperous land that brimmed with culture and sophistication, often times the race that rose to rule it was highly scientifically and magically advanced. But the last time the land had thrived it had been put to a violent end after the OSB's, the Outer Space Beings, had lain waste to the land. As a final resort the Lemurians had erected barrier of magic that sealed it from the eyes of all living things. Yet the Lemurian's had been on excellent terms with the Nobility, and thus granted the Sacred Ancestor and all those of his bloodline, access to the sacred land.

Naturally D had passed through the barrier with ease, yet Asenath, while cursed with Dracula's disease, was not of blood relation to him. She should have been driven to madness in trying to cross, yet it was obvious from her swift pace that she was of sound mind. Perhaps there was something more than what met the eye about the pathetic girl.

Yet he did not give the matter any more thought than that as he turned and passed through the ruins of most stunning of Lemuria's temples. It was perched high within a sky piercing mountain peak, and carved with painstaking detail from the mountains own stone. There was the faint aroma of incense as D stepped within the sprawling temple, it told him that a few of the Lemurian's must have lingered, but he felt no concern for himself. His father had, after all, been their greatest ally.

He lit the guttered remains of candles that where scattered about the temple, as well as a few cones of incense so that soon the temple had regained it's ethereal air. He glanced at the sprawling marble altar laid out before him and then up at the vast gathering of statues that loomed before him. There were twelve Gods and Goddesses in all, some of them possessing features more like animals, while others features that where not of this world at all. The Lemurian's had worshiped any God they chose; these had merely been the most popular. From the center of the gathering of Gods the sternest marble face bore down at the altar, despite the harsh expression of the Gods face it also reflected an expression of infinite wisdom. It was Odin, the one eyed ancient God of the Norse. His face mirrored D's.

D removed the sword from his back, and laid it respectfully down on the floor along with all the other weapons he wore about his form. He than removed his hat, his coat and his cape, but he pulled two things from the numerous pockets of his coat; the first was a long, slender knife that did not have any sort of adornments. The second was the wand he'd bought from the wizard. These two objects he laid down upon the altar.

He wore an undeniable expression of apprehension as he regarded the altar and once again the statue of Odin.

"Oh I know what your thinking." piped up a hoarse little voice. "You're lookin up at Ol' One Eye with his unfathomable wisdom and your thinking "Is this a good idea? Surely you must know." the voice gave a half laugh, " Sure…as usual you'll search for help in the most ridiculous places, I mean now your even asking Gods for help. You don't care a wink about what your right hand…err…left hand man has to think about all this! Because I think this is quite possibly the worst idea you've ever had! Worst than crossing through a hoard of Sandmantas on a horse!"

"Shut up. It's not going to be your Horcrux; therefore I have no need of your opinion." D answered sternly, as he made to remove the golden ring on his left hand.

At this the hand appeared to draw backward with a will of its own. "Hold up a second there! We had an agreement goddamn it. Now I know you have a grand purpose in life, and all that Nobel bullshit, but I am just here to enjoy being alive. I thought we agreed that if I am to fall in battle then to just leave me be. If you go and place a portion of your soul in something to insure your immortality than what's stopping me from being restored right with you! We've been connected since birth, D!"

D clinched his left hand, again regaining mastery over it. "I thought that we agreed that unless it is necessary you're never to overpower my hand." his voice was low, and dangerous. "You recall when the doppelganger of myself was formed with magic. He possessed everything about me, although he chose to exhibit personality traits I'd rather hide. He had everything…except for you. He was me down to the cellular level, and you were missing. I think you've got nothing to worry about." Now, his hand obedient, he pulled the thin wedding ring from his finger and laid it down onto the altar.

"Than…at least remind me once again why you think this is such a good idea?"

The annoyance within D's voice was certainly intimidating, "We've been through this. I can see anytime that I wish into his thoughts, I can see all that he's planning on doing, all the traps he's laid for me. Therefore insuring that I cannot die is only the logical course of action. I must insure that I will survive long enough to destroy him should he prove clever enough to outwit me."

With this the symbiote sighed dejectedly, "I see…making sure that two immortals can fight it out until the earth dies beneath you. Fine then, do as you like Pretty Boy."

"I believe that I explicitly asked to stop calling me that."

"Oh right…okay. Fine, do as you like, Patchy" the hand apologized snidely.

D made no further remark as he unbuttoned his faded and many times mended black shirt and removed it. He paused as he felt the cool metal of the sapphire pendant he wore against his chest, and, in a swift, decided movement he removed the pendant as well and placed it on the altar.

"WOAH! Wait a second now!" Lefty piped up wildly, again moving D's hand to its own accord to face the Hunter. "One horcrux! That's what we've decided! You told me you were only doing the ring, and I told you that's ridiculously obvious. You're making the same mistake Lord Voldemort did. If you wanna do this wisely, make the vessel something plain. Make your damn hat one! Here you go and making them out of the two things Dracula knows you cannot bear to part with. You're a sitting duck!"

With an impatient sigh the Hunter answered the hoarse voice, "No, my father is making the same mistake that Lord Voldemort did. He underestimates me, the same way that Voldemort underestimated Harry Potter. You forget, I can see him, constantly. I have yet to discover a corner of his mind that is barred from my sight. He's been expecting me to make a Horcrux of my own for a while now. He knows my thirst for revenge rivals his. But he thinks I will only have the nerve to make a single one, my mother's pendant. It's been in my possession for millennia, it an obvious symbol for myself and its only natural that I use it first. He's certain the physical pain and mortal agony of tearing fragments of my soul from my body will cripple me. I may take years to heal from it. I am half human after all. He's set all hope on that fact. He'll use all his resources to find where I am resting. That is his greatest weakness. My father sets far too much stock into dreams, he's so confidant in his power to set fate to his terms but that he never factors in change.

So I'll change the plan. I'll have two horcruxes rather than just one. The ring I took from Luna's finger is more precious to me than the necklace. At some point I expect him to take the necklace from me, and to destroy it. Although I cannot predict what strength this ritual will take from me, of this much I am certain. The necklace is a decoy."

"Well…whose to say if this will even work. All the literature we found on the subject of horcruxes implied that you had to have just killed someone for it work. Well, you haven't."

"I believe I have killed enough in my life for the requirements to be vivid enough." D answered gelidly, his tone cutting off any further conversation.

He picked up the ornate dagger, and pressed it against his abdomen. He cast a final glance upward toward the statue of Odin, perhaps seeking some token of strength until he closed his remaining eye and pulled the dagger across his skin. He distanced himself wholly from the sharp pain, and rather meditated upon his past. It was a past that lay drenched in blood and gore. The first memory the returned to his consciousness was the plain, but enraptured face of the first girl, the first human whose blood he'd ever tasted. The frantic drumming of his heart as he drank of her, the way his head swam as the decadent taste filled his mouth was more than vivid enough for D to push aside the gnawing pain of the ritual dagger than was now tearing into muscle. The memory was torn aside and filled with another, the intensity of its presence threatened to rend D's skull. He saw his father as clearly as if he'd been standing before him; saw his father as he'd seen him the first time at the age of 14.

_The moment he'd laid eyes on Dracula's face, a face as pale, and refined as his own, he'd known that he hated him. The moment he spoke, his elegant voice like poisoned honey, he'd know that this had been the source of the voice D had loathed even in the womb. D had watched his mother struggle not to be crushed by ever pressing sorrow every day of his life watched her live in constant fear. This man had been the reason for her suffering. He knew it as certain as he knew that he was meant to strike out, to tear down, to kill this man standing before him, claiming to be his father. _

_In the instant he laid eyes upon him, D had sworn, deep within a heart he'd learned to keep suppressed for Mina's sake, to kill this man. _

D's body was now quaking in protest of his actions, but he forced his hand to remain steady and burrow deeper and deeper into his body. They weren't the precise cuts Dracula had used to rip his soul free, but were wild, and jagged. It was clear that the ritual was already having a far more noticeable effect on the Hunter, as blood was pouring from his lips.

_D found himself looking upon a large field strewn with the remains of battle. Blood had died the earth crimson, organs and brain matter dotted the field the way rocks should have, and intestines were strewn across the sad remains of battered chariots. D stood alone in the field…save for the thunderous roars of approval that bellowed from the crowd around him. D had been the only remaining gladiator in a group of a hundred. Coolly he turned his helmeted face up from the carnage he'd brought forth, and into the pale, gleeful faces of the crowd. For a fleeting moment the gaze of a beauty whose face was framed with flame red hair caught his eyes, but he swiftly moved on. He sought only one pale face amongst the crowd, the same he'd imagined upon the faces of those he'd just slaughtered. _

D felt the jagged pain of the knife as it began to sever his small intestine, he cried out once, blood flowing faster from his mouth, but he did not fail to again grasp the flow of memories he needed to live through. They came in sporadic bursts now, flashes that D could hardly process. There were more glimpses of devastating carnage, of vampires as they crumbled into ash before his eyes, their last expression one of hatred as they regarded D's beautiful, impassive face. Again he recalled Elena's face as his sword plunged into her breast, the agony in her downward turned eyes. He saw Lina's tear filled eyes, before she crumbled into sparkling ash. Myriad more images flashed through him, until at last a single image stood stone still.

It was Mina. Her white gown fluttered out behind her as she gazed almost rapturously down as the drop below her. Blood was flowing freely from her wrists.

And in the next moment she was falling, the wild tread of the Arges River rushing up to met her, and D as well. He heard his mother terrified scream, his father agonized wails, but D did not dare scream. Now more than ever his mother needed his bravery to rely upon. Not only had his true nature as a dhampir unlike any other surfaced on that night, but this moment was also the moment his willing exile began. His bravery had failed him when he'd last held his mother in his arms however, yet even in death she'd pleaded for his strength.

"_Mother…"_

"_D…" she whimpered. There was no madness in her eyes now, only paramount pain and regret. _

"_I am sorry Mother…" even D did not believe that painful lump in his throat that made it so hard for him to speak, that summoned a sob from his rigid voice. Had he ever before cried? Mina had once told him he'd never even cried as a child._

"_I didn't mean…I never…I didn't know what to do once I came here… I couldn't control…" a million excuses came to his mind but none of them could justify the way he'd tormented her these past few years. The way he'd destroyed the only person he'd ever loved. It must have been true what the humans screamed in their rebellion, slavery and death throes…perhaps the vampire race truly was damned. Fated to destroy all they touched and cared for. The first tears to have ever touched his cheeks began to slip down the side of D's face; they were as crimson as the blood that stained Mina's gown. _

_Mina's wavering eyes caught her son's, and she managed to speak softly, "Don't cry D, not for me."_

"_Mother…" he only sobbed all the harder and gently cradled her closer. The sobs had taken him captive now and were wrenched painfully from him. He was distantly aware of the fact that he hated the involuntary grip of this emotional attack, the way it stung his eyes and twisted his face, but more so than anything else he was aware of the dreadful thumping of his heart and the knowledge that this would be the last time he would ever look upon his mother's face. Soon he would have to commit her to the cold Earth, and abandon her to rot and crumble into dust. He wished desperately that he could silence those terrible cries that welled every so often from her lips, to stanch the flow of her blood that was carrying the life from her even swifter but there could be no hope for her now…not if she was resistant to the cursed blood. Only one thing would silence those cries._

"_I never wanted any of this D…I never wanted to fall in love with the night. I never wanted to raise its child." Her voice was barley understood even to D's keen ears. "But I did. I love you still. Will you promise me to fight the darkness wherever you see it? There are so many like me that cannot dream because of the shadows…will you give them a chance?"_

Presently, D's body seemed to be convulsing even as he rammed the knife deeper within himself. Yet his face was a mask of intense concentration, but he was close, of that much he was certain. Physically he could feel nothing but organs within the savaged hole in his flesh, but deep within his psyche he knew the feeling of warmth that spread through his aching flesh meant that his soul must be near. Another image materialized before his consciousness, an image that had plagued both his nightmares and his waking thoughts for 2,000 years.

_Her eyes were curiously glazed now, as though she were not seeing the physical world, but one of dreams, one hidden from the eyes of the living. "D…" she whimpered, and her tremulous hand rose and clumsily caressed his cheek than fell leadenly back down to the ground. D knew it had not been him she'd been intending to caress; she'd seen it, that wretched archway between the living and the dead and pulled back the veil. The rest of her words never left her lips, her eyes remained wide horror filled glass marbles and terror transfixed her face forever. She did not move again._

_For a moment or two D remained in utter disbelief, staring at the appalling corpse of his wife. He felt it soon enough, a strange snapping within his heart as though it had been released from mystical binds, but it was not a liberating sensation, it was deep and aching one. The Heart Bind had been snapped forever. His gorgeous face knitted with pain and he bowed his head no longer daring to hold back his sobs, he tears flowing like rivulets of blood down his face and down onto Luna. His lips ached as he kissed her cold flesh, as though trying to coax her back into life, and his fingers trembled as he smoothed back her hair. "Come back…come back…come back, Luna. I need you." He wasn't even aware as he said the words; he knew nothing but the rending pain in his heart. Each treacherous throb brought the pain closer and closer, bright and brighter. He couldn't draw in breath. His tears felt like shards of glass._

Amidst the torrent of sorrow a simple thought rose into D's mind, _I've killed everyone I've touched, especially the ones I loved the most. _Finally his remaining eye flew open, and the gore strained dagger slipped from his grasp. He felt it, that glowing albeit fragmented orb of light resisting deep within his abdomen. His soul.

He reached out with his right hand, yet his limbs still quaked uncontrollably. It wasn't clear if this was a product of his tremendous blood loss or his body protesting against this horrific act, but he found his arms quite useless.

The was a strange sigh from his left side, "Goddamn it!" the voice hissed, "I hope your happy!" the voice grumbled as the hand rose upward by its own accord, and moved toward the blood soaked altar. It curled around the wand that D had apparently been seeking. D willingly allowed the symboite to take full control of his left arm, as it pointed the wand at his ghastly wound.

D spoke, his words the same guttural, alien words that Dracula had spoken eons ago. A thread of light arched from the wound and onto the tip of the wand, the ectoplasmic thread shimmered a brilliant silver. The Left Hand moved the wand down onto the first object, the golden ring. The ring eagerly drank in the silver light; its own form seemed to glow brighter, to soak up the blood that had showered it, before the light faded. Visibly the jewelry looked no different, yet any that touched object would have been held enraptured, and frightened. This ring contained the very essence of a soul crueler than an arctic blizzard, but more enchanting that the moonlight.

D himself had stagger as the fragment was pulled free, his muscles quaking in protest, yet his face showed no emotion as he stared down at the object containing a fragment of his own soul. Next, out of his strength he returned the wand to his midsection and once again, spoke in horrific words and pulled free another shimmering fragment of his soul. Again his body trembled in protest, yet he forced his hand to obey all the same. The pendant his mother had once wore glowed just as the wedding band had, soaking up the blood D had spilled, devouring his essence until it to returned to it's original state.

D groaned lowly and collapsed onto his knees once the horcrux had been completed. Weakly he clutched at the horrific hole he'd torn within himself, and he glanced in wild vain at the pool of blood that he knelt within. His skin seemed translucently pale, the veins standing out in grim contrast. In desperation D lay down onto the ground and began to lap at the blood. He did not appear in any way human, his remaining eye glowed blindingly, and his tongue appeared much too long and pointed to be considered human as he consumed his own life force. Soon however a tinge of color returned to his skin and after hungrily sucking the blood from his fingers he pulled himself up, using the altar for support. The Hunter had easily lost three times the amount of blood that would have proved dire for a Nobel, yet his body trembled only the slightest as he grasped the thrumming fragments of his soul and walked away.

The east exit of the temple lead to a vast, whimsical garden, and it was here that D exited. At first sight the garden appeared choked with weeds, and dead brush, but D's trained eye knew well that had it been night this garden would have bloomed into prismatic scene of beauty. Within the center of the garden meant for the moonlight stood a tall, tired fountain that was still in working order. Yet it was not water that spilled from its form, but a thick river of human blood.

D appeared to stumble slightly as he rushed to the fountain, and wildly he thrust his cupped hands into crimson life-force, and drank from them. On closer inspection D spied a ring of stone goblets across the surface of the fountain, and with a wry smile he took one of the goblets and filled it to the brim. Again and again he drank his fill, and it came as little surprise that as he did so the gaping wound his to midsection began to knit itself together, until only his well toned flesh remained.

Blood founts had been rather rare in the age of the Nobility of course, only the most wealthy of vampires could afford them. The complicated machinery could produce an infinite supply of blood from a limited supply of lives, but the cost of buying the one million young humans needed for the blood to never cease flowing was astronomical. That had been the most value humanity had had in the Nobel age, cattle to be sold for blood. Lemuria however had procured one as welcoming gift for the Nobility, and set it in the night blooming garden D now stood within. It had not been mere chance D had come to this temple to sunder his soul. He'd chosen it for the vast power the land itself carried, and he'd chosen it for blood fount as well. As repulsive as he found the idea of drinking human blood from an ancient fountain, he knew he might not have a choice if the ritual left him weak. Indeed it seemed there was no weakness about his form when he at last set the goblet down. In a pensive movement D inclined his face into the sky, the sun was swiftly making its way to the horizon.

He'd intended to leave the moment he'd healed, yet curiously enough he felt like staying, perhaps merely just to watch the garden bloom. Why not rest for a moment? D found he did not entirely care for the idea, yet he stayed all the same and lay back against a crumbled stone pillar. In time he allowed his remaining eye to close. He was weary of course, the ritual had left him terribly weak, yet when he opened his eye again it was evident only a few hours had past, as the moon hung in a sky tinged with the smallest ray of dying sunlight. Strength was flowing through him just as it was in the grotesque fountain before him.

**

* * *

**

D had almost finished packing his horse we he spotted a brief, pale flash within the night.

He narrowed his eye; it appeared that Asenath was only feet from where he was standing outside the temple. This was a bold move for her; normally she remained lurking within the shadows to feed her obsession of him. Perhaps she wished to speak to him. Sure enough the girl stepped, trembling slightly into the moonlight and fully within D's sight.

Nobel blood had improved her dull features slightly, there was a hint of a sparkle to her eyes, and her skin glowed with the same pale light as D's yet the scar that marred her lips remained. She still had the starved, crazed appearance she had in life, yet she must have submitted to bloodlust as some point, because there was a distinctive flush to her skin. She was clutching a dark bundle of cloth to her breast. "D…" she murmured, her head was hung so low that she seemed to be bowing in submission of him. "I have to speak to you, at least one more time."

He regarded her coolly, " I've known you've been following me the whole time once again. How is it that you can move about in the sunlight?"

Asenath merely shrugged "How should I know? I was resistant to changing into a Nobel the whole time I was with R…Renfield. Maybe my body just didn't want to give up the sunlight, your father said himself that he doesn't fully understand my ability. But my ability is how I have always been able to find you. Anyone I have ever needed to find, all I needed to do was ask the ghosts local to the area where they have gone, and what they were doing."

He nodded as though faintly interested in the matter, "What is it that you want?"

"I know that you'll never be able to forgive me, and that's okay. I won't ask from forgiveness from you anymore, I think I have a clear understanding of you now. You're not the hero that I wanted to save me in my past life and in this one, but I can accept that now. But I still want to help you D…in any way I can. I don't understand why I can't just leave you be…it's like the moment I saw you I was enslaved…You don't ever need to pay me any attention but I just cannot help but to follow you. Maybe one day I'll find something more to do with this Dark Gift that I never wished for, but until then I will be your shadow. I love you D, more than I can bear. And it's because I love you that I am here, that I am giving you this..."

Asenath pulled back the dark bundle of cloth to reveal a snowy White Mountain rabbit, it looked quite young but strong enough to struggle against the circle of her arms, however the rabbit did not.

D frowned, uncertain what she meant by this offering. Did she mean for him to take this rabbit as sustenance or as a companion? D turned from her, "I am not hungry, nor am I able to care for an animal."

"Just hold her, please!" Asenath cried out, moving to thrust the tiny animal at D. "You have to do this to understand this gift."

D's expression was positively disgusted and he sighed as he reached out and took the creature from her arms. Rabbits were naturally panicky creatures, and easily startled, even domesticated rabbits would struggle the first few times they were picked up by a stranger, and yet this rabbit did not struggle in the least. She went willingly into D's embrace, placing her paws against his chest and sniffing eagerly at him, her ears erect. It seemed as if this rabbit had been expecting his touch, had been awaiting it. Looking into the rabbits black eyes D felt a curious, tugging sensation at his heart. A wave of utter familiarity, of content and simply belonging swept over D as he stared down at the rabbit. That creature simply belonged in his embrace, dependant on his care of her, and in return he would be utterly deserving of the love and companionship she would lavish on him. D simply could not deny the softness, the familiarity of the moment…it was as if he were once again looking at the face of the one which he'd loved the most. True it was a completely different face, within a completely different body, and the surge of tenderness that flooded D was a far cry from passion but all the same, the feeling was undeniable. As unshakable as the name that issued from his lips.

"Luna?" he whispered.

Asenath was beaming, now her face didn't look especially flawed at all. "I can remember everything that happens when another takes my body. While she was healing you she has a conversation with…well…your hand, and…uh…it told her that she wasn't using her full potential to aid you through life. It said what you needed most was to love and to be loved…so it appears that she's reincarnated to be with you again."

D pressed the rabbits head to his chest, laying his cheek upon it. For a moment the Hunter looked innocent, almost vulnerable. Already his belief was unshakeable …he was simply compelled to believe. He kneaded his fingers through her fur; it was almost as soft as her hair had been so long ago. It wasn't exactly the reunion he'd longed for, but he'd take it gratefully all the same. He turned his face from Asenath least the sting in his eyes threatened to grow into bloody tears.

"She doesn't remember much of course, nobody does when they reincarnate. They just have firm emotions and reactions tied to their past lives. I didn't even understand why I was so enamored with you, fascinated with white roses and resistant to the Nobility until Dracula showed me I was once Elena. She knows she wasn't meant to be a wild rabbit, and she knew to come to me to find you. She knows you're where she belongs."

Asenath's undead heart gave a convulsive little throb; it was so wonderful to have witnessed the transformation that had overtaken D in these past few moments. There was life in his obsidian eye, an almost joyous smile on his face, and from the firm way he grasped the rabbit to his chest it was evident that he'd already accepted her into his life.

"I can't care for a rabbit." he said, his voice suddenly anxious, "I had a kitten when I was young that I killed when I got hungry, the cats I had when I tried to deny my calling got impaled and I have killed every horse I have ever touched. And I have killed countless rabbits for substance, and target practice."

"Don't worry, I have faith you'll know how to care for her. I think that's the next lesson you need to learn. Learn to love, you know." Asenath smiled sheepishly.

D said nothing as he looked down to the snowy white rabbit in his arms that still regarded him so curiously, obviously deeming him worthy of her trust. Normally animals would run fleeing in terror from anywhere D was near.

Asenath turned around to leave.

"Wait." he called after her, "I received a letter yesterday from the village of Pantego, there is a Nobel there that wished me to kill him. I am leaving in an hour, you can ride with me if you wish and from there you can do as you like."

Now Asenath was radiant, "I'll go with you."

**

* * *

**

D stood at the edge of the great precipice, looking down at the thousand…perhaps hundred thousand foot drop that sprawled out before him. Land was merely a dark and hazy memory at the bottom, with vague notions of trees and rocky spires. Asenath sat nearby on a large boulder watching the scene with a silent expression of pride. Luna, newly rechristened Snow White was nibbling furiously at the leather of D's boots.

He held two objects within his hands and he regarded them with only a momentarily glance of disgust before he cast them out over the precipice. A glint of metal caught the moonlight before the Resurrection Stone submitted to the force of gravity and crashed onto the unseen ground below, the obsidian at last smashing into useless, jagged points of rock. The second object gleamed with a glassy shimmer in the moonlight before it too fell and was reduced to dust on the ground, a clear liquid trickled out onto the rocks. It had been the last of D's self concocted addiction. He could just discern the outline of the two objects that had turn these past few months into utter agony, and although he knew it would take much longer to fully erase the pain they'd caused him, now he had no choice but to just forget them and allowed the fragmented remains of his soul to heal.

As he turned away Snow White shot away from him like a streak of white light to scamper into a narrow fissure of rock below where Asenath sat, daring D to come and chase her. He sighed as he rushed to retrieve the rabbit; already the notion that he could not simply leave her behind had taken firm hold of him. The girl stood and deftly bent to retrieve the white rabbit from the furrow and held her out for D. He took her carefully, nodding his thanks.

Asenath caught his eye then, her face again beautiful with the happiness that now animated her. D was well aware that it would be an arduous path to adjust to the changes his life had taken on, to accept the bitter reality that had come crushing down on him but now he would not be alone. Once again he had the one he loved most, and looking at Asenath's now lovely face he knew that he would have her friendship and companionship as well. "I forgive you." he spoke softly.

Naturally she heard his soft words with rapt ears and, quite understandable she leapt up and threw her arms around his neck. "I forgive you too, D!"

He would not have felt compelled to return the embrace even if he weren't holding Snow White in his arms, but he allowed her to cling to him for as long as she wished. When she withdrew D stepped toward his cyborg horse, and gently set Snow White onto the little harness he'd fashioned for her on the horse's neck. The rabbit did not protest this in the least. He mounted the horse and then held his hand out to Asenath. 'Let's go."

Eagerly the girl took his hand.

**The End**

* * *

**Hope you liked it! The fourth and final part _Dawn of Eternity _will likely be up in a few weeks. Most of that is already written down inside my head, and I am excited to see it down on paper, but it still needs some hashing out. I think I accomplished what I wanted with this fic, I tore D down completely to see all that he's really made of.**

**_Dawn of Eternity_ will bring an end to everything. Originally I only intended to write just one D fan fiction, I am not sure at what point I knew this had to be a saga. At first I didn't want to write an end to it all, because soon or later Kikuchi will take care of that, and I will have been dead wrong about what happened. But….that sadly might take many years. I guess any fan fiction writer with a vivid enough imagination feels that the character they are writing about, but didn't create, is in some small way, their own. I have come to know D as well as I know myself (actually, I think I know him better.) the thought of not ending his story as seen through my eyes is almost blasphemous. **

**So to my faithful readers, keep your eyes peeled! And make a wish for me….that I get Pale Fallen Angel Part 3 and 4 very soon!! It is out…and I don't have it. *cries***

**Your faithful D freak,**

**Sarah**


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